


There'll Be Peace When You Are Done

by theobliviouswriter



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Fangirl - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: 3rd book, But I want to figure their deal out, Depression, Domestic, F/F, F/M, I mean of course we get action, I'm focusing on Simon and Baz bc no shade but I didn't get enough of it in Wayward Son, I'm writing it myself, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, SnowBaz, Trauma, Watford, because I'm impatient, carry on, unofficial third book, watford school of magicks, wayward son
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-26
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-10-28 22:04:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 27,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20785784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theobliviouswriter/pseuds/theobliviouswriter
Summary: Will the story ever end?After their hectic "road trip" in America, Simon, Baz, Penelope, Agatha, and their new Normal friend Shepard are informed of chaos back at Watford.Everyone thought they could lay low again--that was what they hoped for, at least. And with Simon and Baz's relationship crumbling, they don't know how much farther they can push without falling apart completely.Simon's life had just begun, sure...but he'll never know when everything will come to an end.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THINGS HOLY PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS WITHOUT HAVING READ CARRY ON OR WAYWARD SON!!! YOU WILL BE CONFUSED!!!
> 
> ANOTHER WARNING: THIS IS IN THE PROCESS OF BEING EDITED SO IT'S CURRENTLY ON HIATUS AND IS BEING CHANGED SLIGHTLY, SO IF THINGS DON'T LINE UP, IT'S BECAUSE THINGS ARE BEING FIXED UP.
> 
> Thank you for checking this out! I hope you enjoy!

**Baz**

Of course. Of fucking course. We can’t get a break, can we? I’m already temperamental because of Simon’s pestering reaction to my sincere confession, and now something distressing is happening at Watford. Ten hours and thirty minutes away, not counting airport security. 

We can never get a break. 

Shepard stands there in Agatha’s flat like he doesn’t know what in the hell he wants to do. I can see him weighing his options in those brown eyes of his. He would be able to see a bit more action, a bit more magic, but he keeps going on about his car….

Bunce is frantic. Her eyes flash, and her hair … it frizzes, as if she were a Studio Ghibli character. If we don’t follow her lead soon, she’s getting on that plane without us. 

Wellbelove is as dubious as ever. She looks like she wants to stay with her California friend, but I can see her gears turning. She’s coming with us, no doubt. 

Then there’s Simon. He’s already on his feet, ready to save the world again when all I want is to see him attempt to lead a normal life. Or how he was earlier. Before all that … shit. In the sky, when he flew. I do think America did help him, at least a little bit … but….

Fucking Watford. 

“If it’s another band of fucking vampires, I’ve exhausted my will to fight them for the moment,” I say darkly.

Bunce doesn’t look pleased with my response, but we all know I’ll help where I’ll have to….

Here we go again, I suppose. 

Getting prepared for our flight takes longer than we want it to, but Penny ends up magicking one more fraudulent passport for Shephard and with little effort. I don’t like how she can counterfeit items at ease now, but we don’t have many options. Not any evident ones, anyway. One of us is already illegally in America, so why not illegally make a passport for Britain?

Like before, we’re able to get into our flight with no issue, and we take our seats. Economy again, which isn’t ideal, but the low profile is what we need right now, and surprisingly what I want. 

What doesn’t surprise me is that it has to do with Simon. And being close to him again, even when I know he’s pushing me away, closing me out; even when I want to grab him by the shoulders and beg him to open up. 

After all of this, I would’ve thought … I would’ve expected….

That we would be closer, I suppose, but I feel even farther away. Simon's still drifting from me. Is he still mine?

Even though we sit right beside each other, he feels so far. Our elbows are touching, and I want to hold his hand, but all of his attention is on that screen in front of him. He’s trying to tune out the world and is undoubtedly thinking about the inevitable fight we’re about to enter into at home. At least we’ll be on our home soil, but I wonder if Simon’s going to be _forced_ to sit this one out. His only advantage is his extra appendages at this point. Handing him a sword and telling him to get on with it is helpful, but if we’re dealing with something magickal, his help might only get us so far….

Is Simon thinking about his role in this fight? 

Is he worried that he won’t get to fight at all?

I want Simon happy. That’s one thing he deserves, at least. And more. I would give him more if I could, I would give him everything. 

“I can feel you looking at me,” Simon says after I don’t know how long I’ve been in my head. He pauses what he’s watching and cocks his head towards me. I know he won’t talk with me on a plane, not really talking, with everyone seated so close together. But I need to say this, at least.

“When we get home, I think we should talk about things.”

The tired look in his eyes zips away with an odd sense of expectancy. I know it doesn’t sound good, but it’s not like I’m breaking up with him. 

No, I’m opening myself up. Although I wear my heart on my sleeve, I’m letting Simon know what goes through my head. After almost losing him again, I think it’s finally time.   
  



	2. Chapter 2

###  **Simon**

Baz is asleep on my shoulder again. If he were awake, he would hear how my heart won’t calm down. How afraid I am of this  _ talk _ .

I didn’t want it to come to this. I didn’t know I wanted  _ this _ in the first place, but if he is thinking the same thing I am … well …

Maybe it's best for us. 

But it’s still painful to think about breaking up.

He’s one of the only constants I have left in my life.

But it would be good for his heart. To detach. To forget.

I think we all knew vampires lived for a long while.

If he does this now, it will be better. For him.

And for me?

I don’t know.

What I do know is that our days, hours, minutes ... they’re numbered anyway. For me, nothing lasts very long, no matter how much I want it to. I always fuck it up somehow. I mean, the only parent figures I had are dead because of something I caused, I’m losing Baz with each second, and I’m virtually useless to fight whatever the fuck we’re going to run into at Watford.

Will I even get to go?

I don’t know if I want to go, even though I imagine myself with everyone else, ready to take down whatever our issue is this time. It’s my job to join the fray. I love a good fight.

Instead of thinking about it, I drown out my thoughts with the movie I’m watching. I know I’m running away from my problems. I’ll have to face them eventually, but today is not the day.

My attention focuses back on Baz when I sneak a glimpse of him. He looks content, and though I'm glad of it, my heart can't handle the looming guilt. I hope he wants to break up, too. So it’s mutual. But I don’t want to think about that right now.

Someday, my hand won’t drift to Baz’s head like it is right now, and it won’t be my right to run my fingers through his hair. I won’t be able to kiss him like there’s no tomorrow, because we won’t have one.

I’ve never told him that I loved him. Not loved,  _ love _ . I love him. And he knows that, I hope. I just don’t know how to  _ tell _ him. I don't know how to open up to him, or anyone at this point. Oh, Crowley, do I want to open up to him, but this "talk about things" chat we’re going to have that’s making my heart race will probably be just him talking at me. I won’t find the words.  _ Use your words, Simon _ . I’ve heard it so many times. And I will, someday. But they’ll come too late.

**Penelope**

As worried as I am about Watford, I can’t help but be more worried about Simon and Baz. If my eyes aren’t on my mobile, awaiting more news about Watford, they’re on my two friends. Simon looks more than uncomfortable, even without his wings at the moment. Baz is asleep on his shoulder from what I can tell.

But Baz looks knackered, completely exhausted even before we got on the plane. I’m sure it has something to do with Simon.

I would’ve thought after everything … after the teamwork and fighting….

I don't know. I can't know, really. It's not my relationship, and as a person who just had their own break up because of my own issues, I don’t feel that I have the right to give advice, even if I want to.

I  _ should _ be more worried about what’s happening at Watford, but my mother is the headmistress. She’s undoubtedly the best thing that’s happened to Watford. Yet my planning instincts are finally coming back to me, I want to work at this and solve it before we rush in. The problem is, I don’t know where to start. I hate that. It makes my brain hurt.

“Are you okay?” Shepard asks me, and I find that I’m looking at Simon and Baz again. “You’re not pining over one of them, are you? This isn’t some sad love triangle, is it?”

(I notice Agatha gives him a look from where I can see him over his shoulder.I think she’s still suspicious, but I would be, too after her traumatic stint in the NowNext lab. Shepard’s a virtual stranger to her, and one who knows far too much about us.)

Admittedly, Shepard has grown on me, but I can’t stop myself when I ask, “Is there any bit of privacy you won’t invade?”

He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t seem offended either.

“But for your information, it’s not like that with them. I just care about both of them a bit too much.”

I spend the rest of my flight doing the two things I shouldn’t—worrying about Simon and Baz and stressing about the impending doom we’re about to face.

I’m not sure what will happen first: getting decapitated by the coven or getting killed by whatever is terrorising Watford now.

I miss the days where I wasn’t worried about the possibility of dying every day, but it seems we’re back at square one.

Once we’re off this aeroplane, we’ll be right back where we were before Simon defeated the Humdrum.

That makes me wonder—is there something worse than the Humdrum waiting for us? Worse than the mage?

This is another thing I don’t know, but I suppose we’re going to find out soon whether we like it or not.   
  



	3. Chapter 3

**Baz**

Bunce hasn’t told us our course of action yet, but I'm assuming that we'll be going straight to Watford. Lately, she hasn't had the eye for planning our little...escapades, and I don't expect us to figure this one out, either. Her mum hasn't said anything to her on the aeroplane; otherwise, we would've—surely—had a plan by now. 

We’re off the aeroplane, and jet lag will catch up with us at some point, but for now, I think we're all a little too awake. Mind, I slept on Simon's shoulder most of the flight. His shoulder is stiff from where I rested my head, but it was better sleep than I've been getting.

We're standing in a group and Bunce, still, hasn't said anything but her fingers are running over her mobile keyboard at an exhaustingly quick pace. I think it's her mum; the look on her face is grim.

"What's the damage?" Shepard asks her when she finally looks away from her phone. Everyone is staring at her, waiting for a response.

“Normals.”

We all look at Shepard, including Bunce. 

“I made a vow on my life to not say anything,” he reminds us, and he’s right. If he shared _any _of our secrets, he wouldn’t be standing to tell us that right now. Even with that curse that he’s got on him, that spell is too powerful to break.

I hope.

“So like, Normals managed to find a way to penetrate the walls and protections or something?” Simon asks, confused. 

“More like it’s a tourist attraction to gawk at and talk about,” Bunce mumbles, clearly upset. “It must’ve been our doing. It was that stupid faire—”

“How _did _they find it?” I ask.

“The internet! On Google Maps!”

Bunce holds out her phone, and I snatch it up right away, gazing over the webpage she has up. Sure enough, Watford is on there, in its glory. And the pictures...they're from the _inside _the school.

“There’s a mole on campus, there has to be,” I tell her, handing her phone back. 

So, I guess Watford _is _in trouble, but not in a terrible, save the day kind of manner. Rather a "the Coven's going to have to deal with this one" way. 

“We’re not going to go and try and help?” Agatha asks, and it looks like she’s holding her breath until she hears the answer she wants. 

“My mum told me not to—not that it would stop us—but I can’t see what else we can do other than plan. Figure out how to take it off the internet, delete the thousands of screen grabs that are surely floating around on forums, and wipe the memory of anyone finding Watford in the first place.” Bunce rubs her forehead and looks a lot older than she usually does. “But I want to go and have a hot cuppa first. Then we can plan.”

We all manage to fit in the Addison Lee Bunce calls to pick us up, and we arrive at her and Simon's flat in no time. Bunce definitely had something to do with it; I could hear her muttering incantations under her breath.

Simon hasn’t looked at or talked to me since we landed, and I can tell—and practically smell—that he's thinking. I wish I could know what, hold his hand through the process. I don't know—there's always so much on his back, pun not intended, and I feel I can’t do anything…just wait. And I’ll wait. I have all of the time in the world it seems, unfortunately.

We collectively walk up to the flat and Bunce pulls out her key, unlocking the door. She heaves a sigh of a mix of relief and frustration and lays down on her couch. (Which is more so Simon’s couch, but he doesn’t say anything.)

Shepard stands to the side like he doesn't know what to do, and Agatha makes her way to the kitchen and starts cleaning. Interesting, but needed nonetheless.

Simon, though, is gravitating towards his bedroom, eyes on me. I get the implication, but now? When we need to figure out what to do with the Normals?

Fine by me, even if our existence might be exploited by the time we’re through.

He closes the door once I'm in the room, and I take the liberty to make the bed, non-magickly for his sake. That, and I'm still exhausted from everything that's happened.

“You can do that with your wand, I don’t care,” Simon tells me, but I don’t care, either. So, I make sure it’s spick and span before taking a seat on the bed.

“I didn’t want to,” I tell him.

And I wish I could touch him without pullback. I wish I could reach out and hold his hands, and though there's no one watching, I think he thinks someone is. I know he's self-conscious, and I wish he weren't, but there's nothing I can do.

There’s too much space between us, both physically and metaphorically.

“So, talking about things,” Simon says.

"Yes…." I'm at a loss of words, but I can't take my eyes off of him. Now that we're back home, I can see how America has changed him physically. His skin is tanner and beautiful, and I want to run my hand along his cheek. His hair that he fixed up is falling in his eyes, and I want to push it away. I want to tell him he's beautiful and make him feel good. I wish he would let me let him feel good, but it's his choice and his consent. I don't want to make him uncomfortable. 

But I think I already do that anyway.

"Can I say something?"

Simon asks, surprising me.

It's not like him to use his words. He usually shows and not tells.

“Of course, you don’t have to ask.”

“I’m…glad it’s mutual that you want to do this.”

I freeze. “What are you talking about?”

Simon's body stutters, and his hand claps his neck. He begins to rub, diverting his eyes. "Never mind, what were you going to say?"

**Simon**

What _is _he going to say?! I would think…but…wow.

Wow, wow, wow. I’m absolutely idiotic.

He wants to elaborate on what he said to me earlier, about never being happy without me.

I’m an idiot.

"No, what do _you_ want to say?" Baz presses, standing up. His arms are crossed, and even though he's holding it together, I can see the panic in his eyes.

Do I do it? I don’t…do I do it?

I can feel myself closing up again, and no matter what I want to say, I won't be able to. I want to hold Baz's hands and tell him what I think, and that being apart would be best for us. But his huffing, his dull eyes…they tell me to do otherwise.

I don’t know what to say or how to say it, so I sit down and let my head hang.

“Simon, can I hold your hand?”

I like it when he says my name, but it’s only in vulnerable moments like this. Either vulnerable in a tender way, or vulnerable in a soul-crushing, sad way. I like it, though, and I want to hear it more.

My eyes find his, and he's peering down at me with a cautious, yet tender gaze. His hand is out for me to take and to give mine to him. Baz lets me entwine our fingers because he wants me to be comfortable. I want to be comfortable climbing into his lap, telling him everything I want to say to him. I want to be comfortable always holding his hand and being a _proper _boyfriend. I don't want to care, I w_ant to be happy _with him, but I don’t think I ever will be, with anyone. I know…it can’t be him.

But we're inorganic in every way possible. We hated each other for so long, and now we snog and hold hands. Is that good for us, or are we forcing it?

“Simon.”

Baz beckons me back to my messy flat bedroom, and I see him for the man he is. We're men, now. And he's beautiful, even with his odd vampire tan and the shiny white scars littering his body.

“Did you think…did you _hope _I wanted to break up with you?”

Though I want to tell him the truth, my body freezes. I can’t. There’s nothing I can do but sit there and let him talk.

“Simon, is that what you want?”

My body begins to shake, and if I still had my magic, I would probably go off. I would see that thick, red smog begin to fill the room. This wouldn’t be a good situation. But I’m not magic, not anymore. All I have are these wings and tail that I can feel twitch in my pants.

“Please, use your words.”

His voice is delicate like if he says it wrong, I'll fall apart. Maybe I will, but I can put myself together again in time. Eventually.

Finally, I shake my head.

“Then what do you want?”

**Baz**

Come back to me, Simon. Please don’t close me out again. Please let me know what you think.

Please.

“I don’t know.”

Finally, words. They come out shaky, but he says something nonetheless.

But I want more. Is that selfish?

_I love you, I need you, you’re my everything_.

Simon, I knew that I wanted you for the rest of your life for quite some time, and though our circumstances are weird, to say the least, I don't want to lose you now. Not when you're unsure of yourself like this. Not when I can put you back together.

Please stay with me for us. Maybe we're bad for each other, but we can fix it over time. We had good times, even in all of that shit we've suffered, and we'll have good times in the future, too. Don't you know this? Won't you let this happen, for us?

But I don't say this like I know I should. I want to. I want to tell Simon everything, but I can't make him uncomfortable when he’s like this. He doesn’t smell like a campfire anymore, but I can tell he’s smouldering.

“Do you want me to let you…think about it? Do you want space?”

**Simon**

No.

“Yes.”

I don’t, Baz. I want you. But I need to figure myself out.

“Just for now.”

**Baz**

I expect it, but it doesn't not hurt. At least it's gently. At least he's not gutting my heart out entirely. He's soft. But I don't know how long I need to give him space, I don't know when he'll come back for me, or if he ever will.

Standing, I try to let go of Simon's hand. He keeps a firm grip on it.

“How am I supposed to go if you won’t let me?”

Simon looks as lost as ever, but he won’t say anything.

"I'm not going to ditch you if you're worried about that. I'll be waiting for you to decide."

I know he's very capable of breaking my heart, and I think he will; he already is. But I don't want to give up hope on him. I hope he won't give up on me, either.

I just want him to be happy.

“I don’t say it enough, Simon Snow, but I hope you know that I love you.”

Simon lets go, but hesitantly. Then, he tells me to leave.

I do, but my insides feel like they’re shrivelling up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think so far?? Also, I'm looking for betas if you're interested! Bonus if you're British and you can help with vernacular!


	4. Chapter 4

**Penelope**

When Simon and Baz disappeared into his room, I knew something would happen. Sadly, I’m not too surprised to see Baz walk out of the room first, completely winded.

He looks like he’s some lost child, trying to find their mother in the supermarket. His hands are shaking at his side, and though he hasn’t fed, I can tell it’s not…that. It’s Simon.

“I’ll be back,” Baz tells us in a strained voice I’ve never quite heard before. “We can plan when I am.”

“Okay,” I tell him, but I feel like I should follow behind him to make sure he doesn’t do anything irrational. His head’s not on quite right. “Do you want me to come—”

“Of course not, Bunce.” He closes the door behind quietly, despite how upset he is.

“What do you think happened?” Agatha asks, turning to face us from where she stands in the kitchen.

“Something…not good,” Shepard says. “Should we worry about what he’ll do, or….”

“I think he’ll be fine, he’s just not getting his way right now,” I say, looking at my amethyst in the palm of my hand. My mum’s going to kill me for losing the actual ring, but at least I have the stone. Either way, I feel like I need it fitted into another ring. Not necessarily more effective, but definitely more convenient.

“He seems pretty down,” Shepard says, taking a seat on the arm of the couch. I want to tell him to sit on the cushions like a normal person, but we have more pressing matters at the moment. I’m trying to wrack my brains for what we know about this stupid Normal problem. I want to get to Shepard’s curse, but I don’t think we’ll be able to handle it until we figure out whatever in Morgana’s name led the Normals to find Watford.

“I don’t think there’s much we can do,” Agatha says, and she sits next to me on the couch.

“No,” I agree. Especially if it’s something between him and Simon we’re going to have to let it take its course.

**Simon**

I feel like my lips are glued together, and my stomach churns like I’m going to throw up. I want to go out and tell Baz that I want to work with him through this. I want to say to him that I love him, too. I do. I love him so much and everything he’s done for me.

I. Just. Can’t. Say. It.

When he leaves, I’m still shaking. It’s like all of the words I want to say are building up, and they'll only explode out of me.

If only that happened a few moments ago before I asked him to leave. Before I said I don’t know what I want from us.

I know what my heart wants, but it’s like my head is standing in the way.

Fuck.

Maybe I should start going to my therapist again. It definitely wouldn’t hurt.

But again, my words won’t come to me. It will be a whole lot of listening and not a lot of talking, even when she tries to extract the words from me.

Penelope knocks on the door and pops her head in without waiting for me to reply. She knows something happened. I can tell by the sorry look on her face. She sits next to me and doesn’t hesitate to grab my hand and pat it. Things are different with Penny, but for obvious reasons. We’ve always been friends. This isn’t out of the ordinary. But my boyfriend can’t even hold my hand without my permission. I hate that. I hate our history and I hate that I was brainwashed for so long. But the Mage had several people wrapped around his finger, not just me.

“Do you want to talk about it? Probably not.” Penny is drawing patterns into the top of my hand, and I can’t face her.

“I can’t,” I tell her, and again I curse myself for being able to say _something _to her and nothing to Baz.

“Can you at least tell me what happened? You don’t have to tell me how you _feel_.”

I don’t know if I can, even if I want to. I open my mouth, but I close it again.

“Simon, I love you, but you _have _to work on your communication. It seems like you’ve been getting worse since you started therapy.”

I cringe, and she notices right away.

“You’re going to therapy, aren’t you, Simon Snow?”

My silence is her answer.

Standing, Penny lets my hand fall limp to my side. “Of course! Simon…I know that you’re depressed and you can’t help that, but neglecting your mental health is like neglecting a broken bone! You’re just causing more damage with your repression and you have no means to blow off steam like you used to.”

“I didn’t want a lecture,” I say, but I don’t think she cares.

“Listen to me,” she says, sitting next to me again with a state of urgency. “I want to see you call your therapist and schedule an appointment. I need to know you’re trying to get help.”

I finally make eye contact with her, and though I’m not trying to be rude, I can’t help but toss her a look that screams, “Are you nutters?”

“Penny.”

“Where’s your phone, Simon?”

Though I know she won’t pat me down, I scoot away from her anyway. “You can’t make me.”

“How long?”

“I cancelled an appointment after about a couple of months after my first and haven’t rescheduled since.”

“Simon.”

To my surprise, I think Penny’s about to cry. Tears are building up in her eyes and her hand latches around my wrist.

“Penny.”

“You’re hurting yourself. I liked…I liked seeing you so carefree and I know in a way, America was a getaway, but I miss seeing you happy.”

I can’t look at her again. My eyes find the floor and stay there. I miss being anything but this. This constant muddy mood. I miss being active and having a sword and magic. I think America woke those parts up in me, but the “big bad thing” here is a bunch of Normals finding Watford. That’s bad, but what can _I _do? I feel useless. I might as well conform to my destiny now. No wings. A Normal job. I’ve kind of always wanted to be a barista. I don’t know why. I won’t forget my friends or lose touch, I just won’t be involved…I guess.

“What can _I _do, Simon? What can _we _do to help? We try…but we never feel we do enough.”

Finally, I say something I mean wholeheartedly and with substance. I don’t know why I can say it to her, but not Baz.

“Whatever you do, please don’t give up on me, even when I want you to.”

**Baz**

The sun’s starting to come up—I know I should go and feed now, find some animal or something, but I’m not in the mood, even though my fangs are starting to press against the inside of my cheeks. I don’t want to move. My gaze is fixated on the River Thames and I have no motivation to stand. Or do anything really.

I know Simon needs space, and time, and therapy. No matter how I feel, I’ll give him that. But it’s so damn hard loving someone who can’t open up, even when he wants to. I can tell he does, but he can’t find the words to say. Or express, sometimes. It’s like he buffers.

The only time he can open up is when he’s euphoric. When he’s peaceful, and oddly enough, that’s after fighting some fucking atrocity like vampires and odd people-creatures from America. He blossoms like a goddamn flower in the eye of danger.

Is that why he kissed me in the first place?

Is that why he likes me? I am danger. We were in danger. And now things are not deadly. We’re in wading waters, so he doesn’t want me.

My fangs are cutting into my cheeks now. It hurts, and I know I need to get up before I hurt someone, but my lack of motivation glues me to the bench.

Even now that I know that I might not Turn anyone, I don’t trust myself with human blood. No matter what Lamb said. Not like I can trust that scrote anyway.

In order to stand up, I feel like I peel myself off of the bench. My eyes finally part from the river, and I set off to find my source of sustenance.

Thankfully, I manage to snag a few street cats before the sun fully rises, and anyone can see me. I return just as the sun lights up the sky, and when I enter the flat, everyone is in the living room. Simon doesn’t look up, but I don’t really expect him to. I can’t look at him after that.

Bunce and Wellbelove are discussing something, and Shepard keeps nodding like he understands. Maybe he does. I close the door to announce my presence and Bunce looks up right away.

“Just the person I’ve been looking for. Follow me.” She stands and heads to her room.

Last time I followed someone to their room in this flat, it didn’t end well. I follow her nonetheless because she wouldn’t isolate me unless it was important.

When we enter the room, Bunce latches the door closed and turns to me with her arms crossed.

“So.”

“Did you know Simon isn’t going to therapy?”

This shocks me. Simon used to press me to visit the same therapist he did. “He never really leaves the couch, but I would’ve thought—”

“How did _neither _of us notice?!” Bunce might have a meltdown. She’s rubbing her forehead, pacing in front of me. “I know we can’t force him, but he’s only going to get worse if he doesn’t—I have an idea.”

The look in her eye scares me just a bit. She’s staring at me like she wants something, and it’s Penelope Bunce. Of course, she does.

“Just say it, Bunce.”

“Will you please start going to therapy?”

The involuntary cringe that overtakes me gives her a stark answer, but she still looks at me with those big, brown expectant eyes.

“I don’t know where I’d start, and it’s not like this break of sorts will end.”

Bunce sits on the bed and I sit on the trunk in front of it.

“I think you two need to find different ways to communicate. Just because Simon can’t say it doesn’t mean he can’t show it.”

“He’s been showing me dust until we went to America.”

“He can’t help it.”

Fuck. I know that.

“Look, Baz.” Penny puts her hand on my shoulder and gently massages it. “He told me earlier that we can’t give up on him, even if he makes it out that he wants us to.”

I hate myself for wondering this, but why can’t we give up on him if he gives up on us? (Not that I would.) (I will fight for Snow for as long as I live.)

“He’s going through a rough time and it will be rough for him for a while,” Bunce answers my thoughts. “I think therapy will help him with this, and you setting an example might make him open up his mind a bit. If he sees you go after basically refusing to for so long, it might make it worth it to him.”

The very thought of telling someone my innermost thoughts and emotions makes me want to vomit, but in the end, I would crawl to the ends of the earth for Simon Snow. If going to fucking therapy will somehow encourage him to do so as well, let it be.

“I’ll need her contact information,” I tell Bunce, and if we weren’t friends, I would push her off me. She decides a hug would be an appropriate response.

We walk back into the living room, and Simon and Agatha are standing. Shepard is scrolling through his phone, like he was waiting for Penny. She sits next to him and shuffles through some papers.

“We decided it’d probably be a good idea to go my parents’ house so I can get my wand and take care of Simon,” Agatha lets us know, and I’m ready to go in an instant. Then, I shrink back. Should I? Would Simon allow me?

“Do you want to go or stay and call your parents?” Bunce asks, and she does raise the important point of explaining what happened to our parents. Simon can go with Agatha, and she will share her experience while he gets fixed up.

The desire to go with Simon pushes me towards him, but knowing that he won’t let me hold his hand pulls me back to the couch. I sit down.

“Why aren’t we all going?” I ask.

“Too many important matters to take care of,” Bunce says. “We have a lot on our plate right now.”

Point made.

Simon and Wellbelove leave, and Bunce and I go to separate corners of the flat to speak with our parents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What are you guys' thoughts right now? I love hearing what you have to say! I try my best to stay canon and make it realistic, you know? 
> 
> Love y'all! I hope you keep enjoying!


	5. Chapter 5

**Simon**

Neither Agatha nor I can discuss anything that’s happened since we have to take a cab to her parents’ house. There are so many things I want to ask her—why California? How was it? Is she really going to leave after she gets her wand? (As much as she urges that she will, I don’t think so.) (Maybe to get her dog and other things from California, but she won’t be gone forever.)

Instead, I decide to look at the pictures on Google Maps myself. It’s beyond me how they took so many in the first place. The spells fortifying the grounds would burn people’s eyes—I would think it would warp the cameras as well. But it didn’t, and I’m staring at the proof.

So far, I don’t think any of us knows what this means for the school. It’s not like we can pick up and relocate to another area. Maybe more enchantments that make it unplottable, but I wouldn’t know how to do that. Not like I can, anyway.

At first, I thought it might’ve been our fault. But when Baz pointed out the pictures from the inside, I knew it couldn’t be. I’m sure there’s a full-blown investigation by now.

“Are you and Baz okay?” Agatha asks me quietly, and she eyes the cab driver to make sure he’s not eavesdropping. He’s wearing headphones, anyway.

Now that I’m not so caught up in the moment of Baz’s and my discussion anymore, I don’t feel as vulnerable. It doesn’t take opening up your soul to say you’re taking a break. (I do wish he was here, but I told him I wanted space.) (Just for now.)

“I think you’re undatable, Simon Snow,” she says passively, and I know she means no harm, but it makes me frown, nonetheless. She continues. “You won’t open up to anyone. I know you can’t exactly help it, but you should try and work on it. After everything that’s happened, it’s no doubt that you have trust issues.”

“But if I trust anyone, it should be him,” I say, looking down at my mobile. I turn the screen off and set it in the seat between us.

“Baby steps, Simon. Jumping straight into something right after event so traumatic isn’t the best idea, anyway. Even if he was your roommate the past several years.”

Agatha is right, and I never really thought about it that way. “Thank you.”

She nods. “You need to reset and ease into it. That’s what I did.”

The cab driver drops us off right at her front door, and it swings open as soon as Agatha knocks. She must’ve told them we were coming earlier because they look like they are expecting us. I’m glad we got here when we did, I can feel my wings materialising again, and it would’ve been awkward to explain that one to the cabbie.

Dr Wellbelove sees this and pulls me in without another word, and Agatha closes the door behind us.

**Agatha**

I don’t quite know how to explain that I also got inducted into a vampire cult to my parents. I mean, it was against my will, but I’m sure the information will still gobsmack them. I don’t know where to start in the first place. Simon, right now, is the main issue at hand. He may be fine on the outside, but I think the others think there are some internal injuries.

“You need to be more careful with your wings,” my dad lectures Simon, and my mum hugs me so tight, I think she is making up for the lost time. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so loved by her in my life, but it’s not an unpleasant feeling.

“Simon needs some healing, I think,” I tell my dad when he hugs me. He does so just as tightly as Mum.

“What happened in the first place?” he asks Simon, and in turn, he rubs the back of his freckled neck. “Also, I think I was informed of a video surfacing on the internet with you, Basilton, and Penelope if I’m not mistaken.”

Simon turns a stark shade of red.

“I think his injuries may be worse. Look at those first, and then we can tell you everything,” I say.

“I think people thought it was a show,” Simon says as we make our way towards the living room. Dad wants to check Simon out first, so they weave their way towards another room for privacy. I stay with Mum, and we sit down.

“Agatha!”

Helen turns the corner and finds me sitting. “Hello, Helen. How have you been?”

“Oh, Agatha!” Helen comes towards me and takes a hand. “It’s been so long, dear! So, so long! Tell me how you’ve been!”

“Studying, mainly. I only came back to visit, though.” I smile politely, then look down at my nails. I have a sudden urge to apply a few coats of nail varnish. “A lot has happened, though.”

“What do you mean by that?” Mum asks.

“Simon and I will tell you when Dad gets back,” I tell her, and look back at Helen.

“Do you still watch _Dr Who_?”

**Simon**

“Penny found a spell that gets rid of them for hours at a time.”

Dr Wellbelove has been healing me in different ways for the past few moments now, and my wings are in tip-top shape. And my insides. And any other issues he found with me. I’m probably as healthy as I’ve ever been, other than my brain gunk. He’s prodding at my wings again, examining them with a curious eye.

“That’s very impressive. Do you know what it is?”

“Every time a bell rings, an angel gets its wings…I think. I might be wrong.”

Dr Wellbelove nods.

I’m debating whether I should get my wings off yet. Now that they’re healed and working as well as ever…maybe I can help with something. I don’t exactly know what, but I don’t think I want to be quite useless to my friends yet. The tail, I’m planning on ridding of rather soon. It’s not like it has any use. It’s too small to keep me balanced or whatever tails are for.

There would be no issue in finding a job. I need to get the wings off eventually, but if Penny’s spell is as strong here as it was in America, I don’t want to worry about that or recovery time for hacking them off my back right now.

“I think you’re in proper shape,” Dr Wellbelove says, stepping away from me. His eyes won’t leave my wings, though. I’m used to it.

“Thank you, Sir.”

Dr Wellbelove smiles at me. “You’re welcome. Now, let’s meet the ladies and discuss what got you in such a state in the first place.”

This feels odd.

Sitting with the Wellbeloves like I’m family again.

Not telling the Mage anything. (For obvious reasons.)

Feeling like I have a family in the first place.

This feels odd, but it’s a pleasant kind of odd, I guess.

Helen brought us drinks, and I’m sipping on mine while the Wellbeloves peer at each other to see who’s up for talking first.

Finally, Agatha does, and I nearly laugh at what she says.

“I almost got inducted into a vampire cult against my will.”

Mind you, the situation isn’t funny by any means, and I know that. But anyone would have a laugh at how she said it with a straight face and in such an effortless manner.

Never had I seen Agatha’s mother lose composure before, but at her daughter's announcement, she nearly spits out her tea. “What did you say, Agatha?”

“How?” Dr Wellbelove says louder than I’ve ever heard him speak.

Despite the out-of-character reactions her parents have, Agatha remains indifferent.

“My friend. She was into this thing called NowNext. It turns out they were actually vampires trying to find a way to genetically mutate the mage gene into each other. I was a perfect candidate for their programme, actually. Testing purposes, of course.”

“We saved her after setting most of them on fire,” I hastily add, to try and lessen the panic that’s undoubtedly rising in the adults. “And she’s safe.”

While Mrs Wellbelove is still unable to wipe the shock off her face, Dr Wellbelove rubs his chin. I can tell he’s going to ask a question when he does that.

“In the video that’s circulating, were those vampires—”

“Just vampires, as far as we know.” I bite my lip. “But Next Blood vampires want to be mages and look for any means to live forever.”

“And were all of them eradicated?”

“Penny and Basilton were talking about how more probably exist, and I wouldn’t be surprised if there are Next Bloods all over the world. The internet.” Agatha rakes her fingers through her hair, but it falls back in place just as it was.

“The internet is an amazing invention, but this isn’t good for anyone,” Dr Wellbelove says, and stands. He leaves the room without saying anything else, and we’re left alone with Agatha’s mum.

Colour has returned to her face, and she’s less frazzled than earlier. “I wouldn’t be surprised if the Coven questions all four of you. Exposing yourself, for one.” This is directed at me, and I know I can’t argue with her, but I want to stand my ground.

“I never heard what happened,” Agatha says, and I’m forced to relive what happened. Something so innocent turning to exposing ourselves.

“I would think they understand life or death situations,” Agatha says after I tell them everything I remember, and I agree wholeheartedly. Normals were being attacked. We would’ve all died if no one did anything about it.

“I would hope so,” Agatha’s mother says, and Dr Wellbelove returns.

“I’ve got some news.”

**Baz**

I’m an adult, and my parents want me to “come home”. I would’ve told them I would go over my dead body, but I can’t quite make that joke you see.

When I told Simon I’d consider visiting them during the holidays, I meant it. And I can’t, especially not now that we’re figuring out how someone snuck some pictures from inside Watford.

“This is for your safety, Tyrannus Basilton, and I will not hear no for an answer!”

I’ve never heard my father roar at me like that before, and even though I can see his neck vein popping in my mind’s eye, I know I’m not going to listen to him.

After relaying the past several days to him, my father decides I am a child again. And yes, I am a _young _adult, but I’m also eternal (sadly) and an adult nonetheless.

“What are you going to do if I don’t?” I ask him, and though I never have expressly challenged my father, this interaction feels almost typical.

Except, he doesn’t yell at me more.

“Fiona wants to see you.”

My aunt. The vampire hunter. Of course, she’s going to want to talk to me about the Next Bloods.

“Is it possible she can meet_ me_? We’re trying to figure out what little punk posted pictures of Watford on the internet.”

“Isn’t your safety more important?”

“We’re all pretty damn unsafe, considering the magickal school of magicks is on proud display for people seeking us to find. Besides—why can’t _she _ask to see me?”

“Hi, Baz,” Fiona says.

Oh.

My father’s been on speaker this whole time.

“Ello, Fiona—just a thought, but if we act like we’re hiding something, wouldn’t that make us all the more suspicious?”

“He’s right, Malcolm,” my aunt says and I’m glad that I have her on my side most of the time.

“Either way,” she continues, and I can tell she’s going to lecture me, “you need to lay low. You need to keep your head down. Basilton, _be careful _and _do not _go looking for trouble. I know you and your mates will want to, but now is not the time.”

“It sounds like vampires are on the rise here, Fiona.”

“You’re talking to the vampire hunter, Baz.”

I pause for a moment. The silence is deafening.

“_Are _they?”

Fiona sighs. “No, not from what I can tell right now.”

Good. Good.

“Are you going to look into the Next Bloods?”

“We have to because they’re a threat to our existence.”

Naturally.

Not much is said after that. I exchange my goodbyes with my family, and Bunce approaches me the same time I hang up.

“We have a hearing,” she tells me, and I’m not surprised because we all expected it. Not like we have anything to hide, though. Everything’s on camera.

“Are we being sentenced to death?” But when I look at Bunce, she seems relieved. “What?”

“We’re in more trouble for counterfeiting the passports than we are for that video.”

“What?” My eyes widen. “How? Why?”

“First off, it's passed off as a show at the faire. The title of the video that's circulating implies that we're hired professionals. But most importantly, it's considered life or death. We were in a life or death situation.” Bunce hugs me for a second time today, and I wrap my arms around her this time. “They want our testimony, why we were there, and we’ll have to tell them about NowNext. The worst we get is my stone and your wand taken away; the best is a medal for slaying vampires!”

(Isn’t that ironic? Fiona would be proud.)

That sounds corrupt, but it’s saving our arses. I can’t complain.

**Penelope**

Mum’s _pissed_. Her daughter’s being tried by the Coven a _second _time in less than two years. So, I completely understand if she’d want to take my amethyst. I don’t think she will, though. Apparently shit hit the fan when we left for America and only got worse with time. We’ve got the Google Maps issue, several odd occurrences of creature sightings. It were like when we left, something dreadful stepped in our place.

The kid who plotted Watford on the internet is being tried for treason, from what my mother told me. They took him in early this morning. A seventh year, and a nasty one at that. He’s claiming he was coerced to, but his background isn’t great, anyway. He likes to fraternise with vampires and got in trouble with a few a couple of years ago.

Ironic.

“Hey, Penelope,” Shepard says, which startles me. I forgot about him altogether, and I feel bad for it. I walk to the kitchen and start making tea. Baz sits next to Shepard and picks up the papers lying about on the coffee table.

“You gave me a fright.” I smile at him. “Would you like some tea?”

“Sure, but I have a question.”

“By all means.”

“What will they say when they see I’m over here, with you, illegally?”

Shit.

“You make an excellent point, and we’ll figure that out later,” I tell him. We have too many issues to figure out right now, and that will make things all the more confusing.

“Where are we starting, then?” Baz asks me.

I turn on the kettle and sit up on the counter.

“First, we need Agatha and Simon to come back. Then, we’ll tackle this Google Maps situation.”

Baz doesn’t look like he supports this.

“What?” I ask him.

“What else can we do? I’m pretty sure they will want it under surveillance and magicking it away may disrupt the Coven’s process.”

“But more people will find it!”

“_If _they’re looking!”

“Hey.” Shepard stands. It’s nice to have someone act as a mediator because if we didn’t, this would turn into a screaming match. “I don’t know how things work here, but stressing over something out of your control won’t help at all. Why don’t we all sit down, drink our tea, and figure it out later? “

Never mind.

“Shepard, our livelihood is being exploited as we speak!”

“And the internet is ruthless, Penelope. It’s gonna take a damn lot of magic even to try and get rid of one per cent of it.”

I hate that.

But maybe—and I hate this—he is right.

Slow down.

Return to our regular routines until our trial.

Let Simon and Baz work on things.

“But what about the Next Bloods?”

“I think one of you were talking about how the Coven’s looking into it,” Shepard says, and Baz nods curtly.

“I _could _help, though. Infiltrate in certain places my aunt needs me.”

“Not now,” I say, to my surprise. But not now.

Shepard’s right.

We need to swing back into routine, first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, follow me on Tumblr!! I'd love to follow you back there! Also, I'd love to answer any questions you have!!! Inbox messages make my day!
> 
> Tumblr: ForCrowleysSake


	6. Chapter 6

**Simon**

It’s been a few days since we got home and not much has happened. When Agatha and I returned to the flat, Penny told us that we’re in a stalemate. Funny how she uses battle terms, sometimes. She said we need to get back into the routine of everything we used to do, and for me, that meant laying on the couch.

Except I didn’t. I don’t want to do that anymore.

Instead, I cleaned my room. Folded my clothes. I did things that would keep me busy, and I like it much more than mulling around in my head. It keeps me from overthinking (funny how everything used to be on impulse), but it didn’t keep me from doing so altogether.

It helped me figure out that I’m going to break up with Baz.

Kind of.

I’ve played the scenario inside my head several times now, and I know how I’m going to do it. I got the idea when I was folding clothes and found some of his in the mix. I haven’t worn them in a while, but receiving used clothes from your significant other is some odd achievement, and I’m pleased we reached that point. I hope we’ll reach it again, but for now, he needs them back.

Surely, he’ll ask me what is wrong, and I’ll tell him nothing is. He’ll think I’m lying, but I’m not. Nothing between us is wrong anymore, at least in my head.

My response might break his heart a little, and I don’t want Baz to suffer. I’ll quickly tell him that I don’t want to break up, even if it looks that way. I’ll let him know I want to start over, and he’ll ask why. He always wants to know what’s going on inside my head. I don’t blame him; I feel the same way about him. But I’ll tell him. I want us to work out. I want us to be good together. I want us to be together for as long as I imagine being by his side. The only way we can do this is if we backtrack.

To me, at least, this is a breakup. In the same way, though, it’s like a restart, not a fallout of emotions, yelling, and crying. I’m sure he’ll understand. This will be the only way we can be stronger.

I haven’t had the time to run this idea by Penny or Agatha yet, and it’s because we got our trial dates. It's next week, and though Agatha will only be there for questioning about the Next Bloods, both she and Penny are racking their brains to try and set up the perfect testimony. I told Penny that if she sounds too rehearsed, they might think she’s lying. She smacked my arm and told me to do something with Shepard.

“Normal things, Si. I don’t know. Go to a pub or something!”

We ended up drinking milkshakes outside a corner store, talking about the video. I finally saw it for the first time, and it looks too good to be true. Even Shepard said that if he were a typical Normal, he would’ve thought it was a show. Not that we had too much to worry about, anyway. Penny’s the one who would get in the most trouble, seeing as I’m only linked to the World of Mages by dragon wings and the counterfeit passport I used. Baz has a little mess to clean up, but he didn’t make fake passports, he obtained one as I did. The Coven mostly cares about Next Bloods and the vampire attack in general. We might get medals for what we did. Penny told me this, but I’m not counting on it.

Baz hasn’t been around since the day we got home. He said goodbye to me, but we haven’t texted, called, discussed anything at all for that matter. I know it’s him giving me space. I’m appreciative of it, but I wish he would come over.

Now, I’m cleaning my room again. I have all of Baz’s things stacked on top of my chest of drawers, and I’m going to text him to come over soon. The thought of doing so makes my stomach knot up, but everything is happening under what I say. He doesn’t want to test the boundaries, and I love him for that. I love that he respects what I need.

In cleaning my room, I started to make lists about Baz, why I love him, why I want to keep him, why I shouldn’t break up with him, why he’s important to me—to sum it up, I have too many lists about him and I put them in a journal in my bedside table.

While I’m dusting off a picture frame, Shepard knocks on my door. (I only know it’s him because Penny wouldn’t ask to enter and Agatha isn’t here. She left a few hours ago to go horseback riding with her Normal friends.)

“Come in,” I say, which is still weird to me. I usually don’t have to grant permission.

“We ordered takeout for dinner,” he tells me, and I turn towards him. I knock the picture down with a wing and wince when it hits the ground with a loud shatter.

“I’m going out in a bit, I think,” I tell him.”

“Oh, cool. I’ll tell Pen.”

Something like excitement flashes in Shepard’s eyes when he closes the door; I don’t know what to think about that.

The picture I knocked over was one of me and Baz Penny took when we first started dating. I’m lying on his chest, wings tucked. We both look happy, and if things go right, that will be us again. I hope he won’t mind dating me when I get my wings removed. I’ll be one hundred per cent Normal then.

For a brief moment, I leave my room to grab a broom and dustpan, and Penny finds this occasion to question me.

“Why aren’t you eating with us?” She’s sitting comfortably on the couch, eating takeout. Shepard is sitting opposite from her, doing the same.

“I need to talk to Baz,” I tell her honestly then hold up the broom. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to—”

“Getting back together, or—”

“Penny, please.”

She scowls but waves me off to my room with her fork.

There’s no hurry to clean up the shards of glass, but I do so hastily. It’s getting later into the night, and I don’t think that will lessen the chances of Baz wanting to meet up with me, but I don’t want to be a prat and call at ten at night. It sounds like I’d only want to shag him. Not like I will or have. (Even though I want to.)

I return the broom and dustpan to their respective spots after emptying the shards into a paper bag and tossing it in the bin. To avoid any further questions, I run into my room and shut it behind me.

Now, the moment I’ve been anticipating. (And dreading.)

At first, I go to text him, but as I stare at my thumbs and twiddle them over the keyboard, I realise it’d be better to call him. Now that I’m not such a frazzled headspace, words come to me more easily. All I have to do is ask him if he’s willing to meet up, anyway. It’s not like I’m unpacking every repressed thing I’ve ever wanted to say to him.

Baz picks up after a couple of rings, and I remind myself not to take his love for me for granted. “Hey.”

“All right, Snow?”

I go to nod, but I remember he can’t see me. “Yeah. I am…” _Say it, Simon_. “Can you meet me?”

“Where?” he asks immediately, and it makes my heart skip a beat.

“By the River Thames? Is that all right?”

“Of course. When?”

“Now?”

“Yeah.”

My eyes wander to his stack of things. “Bring a bag, please. I would, but I don’t have any that don’t smell like takeout.”

“For?”

“You’ll see.”

Silence. It’s deafening.

“Okay.” Baz’s voice cracks.

“Baz.”

“Yeah.”

Shit, is he crying?

“You don’t need to worry, I promise.”

“Okay.”

“Please smile.”

“You can’t see me.”

“And?”

He laughs, and I feel better. Like I haven’t broken him a bit. I know I have, and that I will dwell on that later.

“I’ll see you in a bit,” I tell him.

“Okay, Simon.”

The weather by the water is colder, so I pulled on a jacket before I left. (Penny spelled off my wings again for convenience and comfort.) I find that I ask her to do it a lot. So I can sleep comfortably. So I can go out. It lasts for a good eight hours before they begin to materialise, so I’m sure I can get a job. I’m going to start looking for some tomorrow.

Baz isn’t here yet, but he might be feeding before meeting me. Or something else. He’s not obligated to be here first, even though I kind of expected him to be.

His clothes sit beside me on the bench and looking at them now, I acknowledge what it looks like. Like this is an end. An actual breakup. Cutting all ties. I hope he doesn’t get that first impression.

Here he comes now. Though I can only see his outline in the lights bordering the street, I can tell it’s him by how he’s walking. I stand on impulse and shove my hands in my jacket pockets.

Once he’s close enough to see, I notice how much I’ve missed him, even though it’s only been a few days. The moonlight illuminates his skin and makes him all the more beautiful. I’m weak and almost submit to my emotions. I want to rush up and pull him in. Kiss him. Tell him I can’t do this anymore, we can’t be apart. Then, we’d fall back into the same cycle where I can’t tell him anything at all. Leave it to be guesswork. I don’t want him to suffer because of my shortcomings, not under my control.

He approaches me and I don’t know what to say. Not right now. I shuffle my feet. “You look good.”

Baz is in some jeans—some of his own—and a casual button-down. Lilac. I want to run my hands over the fabric.

“So do you,” he tells me, and my heart raps against my ribcage. I’m only getting more nervous.

“Let’s…sit. Unless you want to walk. Do you want to walk?”

The smile on Baz’s face—a sad one, albeit—eases me slightly. He sits next to his clothes and looks at them. “Are these—”

“Yeah.” I sit and hand them over. I see he already has the bag open to place his shirts in.

So, he does. He takes the shirts, one by one and places them in the bag. He won’t look at me, and by the time he puts the last shirt in the bag, I can tell he’s crying.

I take hold of his wrist, and he finally looks up.

Usually, Baz is calm and collected; I’ve seen him cry, but not like this. He’s trying his hardest not to let tears roll down his cheeks, but he can’t stop them.

“Simon,” he says and I shake my head, but he keeps going. “I’m so sorry that I wasn’t enough for you—”

“Baz, I’m not breaking up with you…not really.”

**Baz**

What the fuck.

What in the fucking hell, Simon Snow.

I’ve been preparing myself for this for quite some time. The breaking up, crying, nights feeling completely isolated. I thought he wanted to break up and the clothes scream that he doesn’t want me, or a part of me, or anything of me.

But he’s not breaking up with me, not _really_. What is that supposed to mean? I wish I could absorb the tears or suck them back in. I don’t like people seeing me cry, and even though Simon has, it doesn’t make it less comfortable.   
I’m embarrassed, but he has my full attention now. I wipe my tears away and try to regain my composure. He continues.

“I want to restart.”

When Simon finds his words, I tend to lack them. I want to know what he means, so I nod to encourage him to keep going.

“Can we walk?” he asks me, and I nod.

We stroll along the river side by side. My hands are in my pockets, and his are in his. It’s Simon's time to talk, and he will this time. I missed him while we were apart. I found myself trying to leave the house a few times a day to drop by his flat and check on him, but I had to remind myself that he wanted space; space is what I gave him.

It’s not any sacrifice to respect your boyfriend’s boundaries, but you have to stick with it. You have to remember the end goal, and mine is to spend my life with Simon.

Even if he wants this…restart? That’s what he calls it.

“How do you feel, Baz?” he asks me, and my eyes are on the water. It’s the second time I’ve been here in a week.

“Confused.”

I can see Simon nod in my peripheral. “I understand. I’ve been confused for a long time, too….

“But I know where I am, now. I know what I want.”

Please let me be in that equation, Simon Snow.

“I want you, Baz. I will always want you. I push you away. I’ve unintentionally tested you. I know you must be fed up, but I’m healing. I need time to heal, and I know you know this.

“But I was talking to Agatha and she told me that jumping headfirst after just getting out of something so…traumatic is bad. For me and for you.

“What I’m saying is that I want you, Baz. That’s if you’ll have me, but we…we should start over.”

Both of us stop walking and I stare at Simon. He looks beautiful, and the gas lamps light up his tanned, freckled skin. He’s a fool for thinking I wouldn’t have him, but I don’t know what he wants from starting over.

“Elaborate on that,” I tell him.

I notice his hand jerks towards mine, but he pulls it away. It’s okay, I understand. This is what he means when he says he wants to start over.

“You might’ve loved me for a long time, but I used to think you _hated _me. We were enemies, and I will never forget that. I know…I know that we’ve been through a lot since then, but I kissed you for the first time when you were about to kill yourself.”

We flinch simultaneously.

“We found each other when we needed each other most, but now that…now that we want each other, now that we’re not in danger…we need to see that things are a bit different.

“Have we ever gone on a _proper _date?”

No, we haven’t; I see what he means.

“So, what you want are handwritten notes and flowers and sweets when I pick you up from your apartment? You want to have a night on the town? You want me to make you fall in love with me?”

Simon’s hand takes mine and warmth spreads throughout me.

“I want to break down whatever wall is keeping us apart, and I think this is it.”

“I wouldn’t call this starting over.”

“What would you call it?” Simon asks me, and his blue eyes twinkle.

“I’d wager it’s slowing down.”

Simon nods. “We hopped on while the train was going at full speed.”

“And now it’s at a steady pace. We need to adapt and understand that we don’t have to be turbulent.”

Now that I know what he wants, I feel much calmer. Finally, his words found him. I don’t think we’ve ever been great at communication, so this is a step forward. We have to keep working on it. We both will, but I think it’s possible. Simon’s guarded and always will be, but I want to break him open piece by piece until he knows that I would never go against him. I would never hurt him. I am always _for _him, even when he has a dumbass idea. I love him. I will never stop loving him. All we need to do is wind down the turbulence.

A few drops of rain splat onto Simon’s nose and cheeks, and before we know it, we’re standing in a London downpour. I don’t have an umbrella and I’ve been told to lay low, so conjuring one wouldn't be a smart idea. Absorbing this moment and how imperfect it is allows me savour it more; I find beauty in this. In Simon, in the lights, and swimming shades of golden, navy, and black. Right now, right here, is a moment that will stay in my mind for all my days. (Simon’s beautiful smile most of all.)

“Simon Snow, will you go on a date with me?”

When he lets go of my hand, I prepare my heart for the worst, but he nods, that smile turning in a grin. Crowley, I want to kiss him.

“There’s nothing I’d like more.”

Like a proper love interest in Simon Snow’s story, I drop him off at his flat. I stay until I make sure he’s in, and his words linger with me: “Text me when you get home, so I know you’re safe.”

Tomorrow, I’m going to write a letter to him. The next day, I’m going to buy him flowers: not the cheap ones from the supermarket, a nice bouquet. To distract from the stress of the trials, we’re going on a date the night before.

So much is in store, and when I look at the bag of clothes next to me, I can’t believe that I thought he was breaking up with me such a short time ago. I’m sure he considered it, but I thank my luck that he decided against it.


	7. Chapter 7

**Baz**

By the time I reach my flat, I can see a figure haunting my door. I haven’t any idea who would want to pay me a visit this late, but I have a bad feeling about it. I make sure my door’s locked before walking to my front door, and when I’m close enough, I can see it’s Fiona. I'm relieved, but there’s a fire in her eyes, and I know she means business.

“You’re spending the night at mine, kid,” she tells me as I unlock the door. I toss her an antagonistic look; she does the same right back.

“Why should I?” I ask her, but I’m already making my way towards her room to pack. She’s never invited me to stay with her before, so I’m assuming it’s for an important reason.

“I need your vampire brain,” she says, taking a seat on my bed.

“It works just like yours,” I rebuke, then look down at the bag I’m currently toting. It should suffice; all I need are some pants and trousers for tomorrow.

“No, like I need to pick your brain a bit…this Next Blood business is more serious than you realise.”

“So the vampire hunter is asking the vampire for advice.” After placing the rest of my clothes in their respective drawers, I grab my mobile charger and a toothbrush.

“Tyrannus Basilton, I’m being serious, and I am going to need you to listen to me.”

I turn to her. “Go on.”

Fiona rolls her eyes but begins to pace and divulges on her research thus far. “So, I looked into the guise Next Blood is using. The NowNext website is down, so what I can assume is that they think the surface web is too unsafe for their organisation.”

“What does that mean?”

“Well, I left my burner laptop at home, so you’re going to have to see when we get there.” Fiona shoves her hands in her pockets and walks out of my room and to the door. “This is critical, Baz. We can’t ignore it. Especially me. I’m supposed to kill these motherfuckers.”

“From what I know, you’ll never catch them.” I lock the door behind us and follow Fiona to her car. Though I want to take my own car, Fiona is right about this business being important; we'll need to discuss this thoroughly. I hope she’ll remember to drop me off at home in the morning before tearing off to kill more of my kind.

“So they…transfuse and don’t…you know…?” She points to her canines; I nod.

“From what I understand, yes. But they have to get that blood from somewhere, nonetheless. Most are doctors, but doctors need cadavers.”

Just as I’m about to climb into the passenger seat, Fiona glowers at me. At first, I don’t understand why. Then, I remember.   
“That happened, what, two years ago?”

“_Backseat_.”

Fuck this.

I sit in the backseat anyway.

“This isn’t a bunch of sodding vampires. This is an organisation of smart, rich vampires that know how to hide, and it makes it all the more dangerous,” Fiona continues once she’s taken off down the road. “I’m going to need to know everything you do about vampires, Baz. Every last thing.”

“Why?”

Fiona doesn’t answer, so I stare out the window and watch the water droplets race down the glass.

**Simon**

“I’m proud of you, you know that?”

Penny and I sit in my bedroom since Shepard is asleep on the couch. In the morning, we’re going to see if Headmistress Bunce can do anything about that curse of his. I don’t feel like going because I don’t want to listen to the impending screaming match between Penny and her mother, but I don’t know what I’d do otherwise. Agatha’s preoccupied with catching up with her Normal friends.

“For what?” I shovel another mouthful of takeout into my mouth, which renders me silent until I swallow it all.

“For talking with Baz.” She leans against my headboard and sprawls across the bed. “For tapping into yourself and being able to pull want you to say out.”

“It was a long time coming. I’m still afraid it’s going to mess up somehow.”

Sitting up, Penny nudges my arm. “It only will if you doubt yourself like that. I know you lost a lot of confidence after everything, but doubting everything you do will only make you pull away farther. You have to work on that—”

“It’s not that easy, Pen—”

“Did I say it was?”

Penny hugs me from the back and she can because I asked her to use her fancy spell again. She doesn’t make me feel any better, though. I set the takeout on the bedside table.

“Simon, what _would _mess it up? Come on. I know you like lists. Start a list of ways you could mess it up.” She crosses her legs and places them in my lap. Her socks have little baubles at the end, and I grab one.

“Once these wings are off, I’m a Normal. I think…I think I want them off relatively soon, but will Baz still want me when I’m Normal?

“And I push away. When I get too…up here,” I tap my head with my forefinger a few times, “I like to isolate myself. And I blank out and—”

Penny grabs my wrists. Her brown eyes pierce through me, but her smile makes her less intimidating.

“You doubt yourself when you stop being sure of what you’re doing. You don’t have to navigate Baz like some uncharted territory.” She holds my hand up for me to look at. I flex my fingers and move it so I can look at her. She kisses my palm and sets my hand down. “You know him like the back of your hand. You need to believe in yourself. You’re worth his love, and my love, and everyone’s love. You deserve it.

“I know your _therapist _could do a better job of encouraging you, but I think you should tell yourself that you’re worth it.”

Again with the nagging about therapy. I know Penny says I need it, but I’m beginning to do better on my own.

“What if I don’t believe it, though?”

“Fake it ‘til you make it, Simon Snow. No one can stop you.” Penny stands from my bed. “I’m going to get some shut-eye. You should get some sleep, too. You look exhausted.”

**Baz**

“No offence, but you don’t like Normals all that much. How do you know so much about the internet?”

I’m staring at my aunt’s burner laptop screen. Burner. Meaning that she uses it, so she doesn’t get traced. I didn’t know what in Morgana’s name it meant until _she _told me.

“Dead useful, whether we like it or not,” Fiona says, sitting down with a couple of glasses of whisky in hand. She gives me one and sips on hers.

“So, if it’s not on the surface web, where would it be?” I ask her. Google Chrome’s cursor blinks back at me. She told me if I could find it myself, she’d pay me a fifty pounds. I know she’s just testing me—she knows where to go.

“You’re a young’un, Baz. I’m surprised you know nothing about this.”

“I thought this was an urgent matter, Fiona.” I place the computer back in her lap and sip the whisky. It burns the back of my throat.

“I’m trying to prove a point. You have to _know _where to look, and not many of us are too keen on using the internet. The whole Watford Google Maps debacle is juvenile, but Next Blood knows what they’re doing.”

“You don’t think you’re related, do you?”

My eyes follow the cursor around the computer screen. She clicks on something called TOR, and it pops up.

“I doubt it. From what I can tell, these guys don’t want to be found until they’re sure they’d win in a scrap. After your scuffle with them in America, they’re probably scared of trying anything right now. But it’ll turn into game of cat and mouse, I reckon.”

“Why aren’t you doing anything else?” She hasn’t clicked on any other website or typed anything in the search bar. Has she given up?

“This is the portal to the dark web.” Just its name alone leaves a taste of foreboding in my mouth.

“What can you do there?”

“Buy absolutely anything.” She side-eyes me, sips her whisky, and continues. “Hitmen, sex trafficking, organs, and this is a free reigning part of the internet. If you know how to play your cards right, you’re untraceable. I’m hoping that these twats don’t know how to use a VPN, so once we find their website, we can infiltrate and find where they are. Or even better, we can get close enough to infiltrate in person.”

“Wait a second.” I scoot away from my aunt, and she cocks her head like she doesn’t understand why. “_We_?”

Fiona smiles like she’s expected this.

“You want me to be a pawn of your vampire hunting game.”

“They’re a danger to us, Baz.”

Of course, she’s right. And of course, I will do this for her. I need to wrap my head around it first.

“I thought you didn’t want me to go finding trouble.”

“You’re helping me, the licenced vampire hunter that works for the Coven. It would be a different story if it were you, Snow, Bunce, and…Wellbelove is back, right?”

“They’re going to know, nonetheless.”

Fiona takes hold of my arm and sighs. “What I’m saying is if it all goes to shit, I’ll take the blame. I’m tired of seeing you get tried for doing good things—chaotically, yes—but you brought up the Next Blood that we didn’t know about them until you got back from America.”

Even though I am an adult who should be taking full accountability of his actions, I’m thankful that my aunt would do this for us in the first place. I didn’t exactly know what to expect tonight, but I’ve been in similar situations before. It seems I can’t stop infiltrating different vampire hangouts. At least I’m a useful Vampire at that. 

“So, what’s the exact plan?”

Fiona gives me the rundown.

Right now, she’s working on finding the website they use. She knows that they have to be underground, and she wants to be sure of what she finds before she hops on. That’s where she needs me. I’ll be frequenting different vampire hangouts, keeping it lowkey, but fishing for information where I can. She’s sure that low lives who want to make a quick buck and a bite for themselves will gather what essentially become blood donors in a twisted fashion. I’ve visited such a place that hosts those type of people before, so I know where to look. While she’s hunting, she’ll try to get something out of the vampires before eliminating them.

(Even though Lamb’s a prat, it’s odd thinking about my Fiona’s job now. Brethren, he called vampires, but he hasn’t met such low-class chavs. Those with the taste for daring and power but fall to be nothing short of a disappointment.)

(But still, I can hear his voice. I don’t have to be ashamed of who I am.)

(I am nevertheless. I always will be, and after my stint with _him _and _his _people, I can’t help that my standards for vampires drop even lower.)

(Now, my urge to bust these dumbass Next Blood twats grows stronger.)

“When do we start?”

Fiona’s giddy at my enthusiasm and clinks our glasses together. “After your trial, now. Drink up and get rest. I have to take off early tomorrow and, I don’t need you stalling me with sleeping in and refusing to get up.”

With those words, Fiona tips her head back and drinks the rest of the contents in a gulp. She doesn’t bother with washing the cup and walks back to her room, shutting it a little harder than needed.

After the trial.

I don’t finish my whisky. Instead, I lay back on the couch and think about my next move with the Next Blood and Simon.

I fall asleep with thoughts of Simon swirling around my mind.


	8. Chapter 8

**Baz**

A green bag glares at me, one I don't own or have any recollection of seeing in my life until just a few moments ago.

It's the wrong bag. Instead of grabbing my own while leaving Fiona’s this morning, I grabbed one of hers, and it’s filled with pictures and yearbooks.

Our bags aren’t similar in the slightest. Her bag is green and leathery. Mine is black and fabric. How in Merlin’s name did I grab this instead?

It’s almost comical, really, but at least the only thing I need in my bag is my toothbrush. I must’ve grabbed the first handle I saw and walked out. I don’t remember arriving home until just a few moments ago. And now, I’m staring at this bag filled with shit from Watford.

I’m still exhausted because I can’t peel my eyes off the bag, even though I need to get started with the day. I have a letter I need to write to Simon, and I wouldn’t be surprised if—

My phone rings; it’s Penelope Bunce.

Like clockwork.

“Hey, Baz. Want to come to my mum's with us? We’re seeing if we can do something about Shepard’s curse.”

“Is she fine with me coming over?”

“My home is your home, Baz. Get ready. I’ll call up a cab and—”

“No, let me get you.”

Bunce sighs. “All right, but if you’re not over here in thirty minutes, I’m revoking the invitation.”

She hangs up before I can, and I set off to work with Simon’s letter before anything else.

Sincerity oozes through handwritten letters, so I use a pen and paper as opposed to a typed note. Not that I use my computer for anything other than coursework.

Simon is emphasising that we slow down, and I agree with him. Accelerating through everything doesn’t allow us to take time and enjoy the little things, such as these notes. The only problem I find with slowing down is that I can’t figure out what to write. My pen hovers over the paper, and I’m ready to write, but what? Is _I love you _too soon even though he’s heard me say it to him before?

For a moment, I’m at a loss of words, but then Bunce’s voice fills my head.

Simon didn’t want us to give up on him, even if he expressed that he wanted us to. 

There we go; I find substance in that.

Getting ready for the day becomes a mad dash—when Bunce says she’ll revoke her invitation, she means it. Instead of showering like I’d prefer to, I use a clean-up spell and tie my hair up. I’m sure Simon will get a kick out of my—what do they call it?—manbun. When we first started dating, he incessently asked me to pull my hair up. Maybe it will rouse some memories. I smile at the thought.

I let Bunce know I’m heading over before she can yell at me to hurry up, and I grab Fiona’s bag on my way out. Since I don’t have any uni work that I have to do and am waiting for Fiona for the go-ahead on our mission, I might as well snoop. No doubt, the yearbook is from Fiona’s days at Watford. I’m curious. 

Bunce, Simon, and Shepard are already outside, waiting for me when I arrive; I roll down the window so they can get a better look at me. 

“Am I late?” I ask.

“Perfect timing. Literally on the dot. I timed you.” Bunce holds up her phone and clambers into the backseat. Simon takes the passenger, and Shepard takes a seat next to Bunce.

“I like your hair,” Simon says, and the corner of my lip curls into a smile.

“Thank you. I have something for you.” I take the letter addressed to Simon from the front pocket of Fiona’s bag. “Open it when you’re feeling unsure of yourself, okay?”

Simon stares at the green calligraphy on the front of the envelope and says nothing.

“I wrote that.”

“It’s beautiful,” Simon says under his breath, then turns to Bunce. “Can I drop it off?”

“Make it quick,” she says, annoyed, then turns to me when Simon shuts the door. 

“What?”

Rolling her eyes, Bunce buckles herself in. “Now?”

“I think it was a perfectly appropriate time to give him a letter, Bunce. I don’t need you to chastise me.”

What’s got her knickers in a twist? I focus my eyes on the steering wheel and quietly drum a beat on it.

“Let’s go.” Simon climbs back into the car, buckles up, and turns to me. There’s something in his eyes that I recognise but haven’t seen in a while. It swims in his pools of blue, but I can’t pinpoint what. Whatever it is must be good, though. He has a smile on his face, and it’s infectious.

I love this feeling, but I’m anticipating the fall at the same time. I look away from him and drive off.

Headmistress Bunce opens the door, the hinges groaning in protest at how fast she does so. She says hello to the lot of us, but pinpoints Penelope and Shepard. She ushers Simon and I into the kitchen, and the other two remain with the headmistress.

Simon and I migrate to the kitchen, and to Simon’s delight, someone set out scones, butter, clotted cream, and tea. He doesn’t touch it, though, and I’m assuming it’s because he wants to get permission first.

“Whose bag is that?” Simon asks as we sit at a crowded table. The scones are set at a tempting arm’s reach away from him.

“Fiona’s,” I tell him, then glance back down at it. The bag is uglier in the light. Godawful—I don’t understand why Fiona would have it in the first place.

“Did she give it to you, or…?”

“Grabbed it by mistake.” Upon opening the bag again, the smell of must lodges its way up my nose and I cough. “Crowley, this smells.”

“And she just had it laying around—wait. She’s in the UK right now?”

“Yeah, Next Bloods summoned her.”

For a moment, neither one of us says anything. The sound of Bunce’s mother fills the void: something about curses and passports.

“I’m working with her.”

Simon looks stunned. “What?”

“The vampire hunter and her vampire nephew. A perfect match to take down the Next Blood.” Though I'm sardonic in my delivery, Simon looks interested. “Just so you don’t have to hear it again, I’ll spare the details until Bunce is present.”

“Yeah, okay.” Simon begins to pick at a hole in the knee of his jeans and pulls out his mobile.

So, I take out the yearbook. It wreaks with age and dust like it’s been kept in an attic or trunk and hasn’t been touched. The spine of the book cracks when I open it, but it’s been opened before. The evidence is staring back at me in hot pink ink.

“Baz?”

I glance over the book at my…boyfriend. Are we still boyfriends? Nothing was specified.

“Yes?”

“Where do you think would be a good place for me to work?”

“It depends. Are you going back to uni?”

The hole in Simon’s jeans only gets bigger as he continues to pick at it nervously. “I don’t think so. Not right now, at least. I think I just want to touch down with the Normal world before I swing back into Normal school. I didn’t adjust well there.”

“Do what you think is right. Where were you thinking of working?”

I take Simon’s hand that’s pulling at the rip and place it on the table. I know he’ll regret it later if I let him keep at it. In turn—and to my surprise—he keeps my hand in his. Nothing feels better than his warmth shooting up my arm. It was only since last night that I last held his hand, but I missed how it fit in mine. He rubs circles into the back of my hand.

“I think it’d be fun to be barista.” The smile on his face tells me he should go for it.

“Starbucks?”

“Or a family-run shop. Either is fine.”

“Then apply. Can you apply on your mobile, or do you need a laptop?”

“I can apply on here…I’m going to do it now.”

“Good. I’m proud of you.”

Simon smiles at me, and it’s genuine. He coyly looks down at his phone, and if I were bold, I would lean over, cup his chin and kiss him. But I want him to be comfortable. Instead, I look back down at the yearbook.

**Penelope**

“I understand you’re upset, Mum. I do. And I know how this makes you look. I just…look at him!” I wave my arm towards Shepard, and he smiles sheepishly.

My mother looks at him, incredulously. “I see a twenty-something-year-old American across the pond. A Normal at that, no offence.”

“None taken,” Shepard says.

“A _cursed _twenty-two-year-old American! Mum, he’s cursed, and we _have _to figure out how to undo it!” I grab his wrists and hold his arms out to her; she freezes.

Nudging my hands aside, my mother holds his arms like if she dropped them, they would break and if she weren’t firm enough, they’d float from her grasp. Whatever it is must be much worse than I thought, because I’ve never seen such a devastated look on her face.

“Pen, I don’t think…I don’t know a counter curse for something like this. I don’t know what caused it, and I don’t know how I can fix it without only deepening the curse. Dr Wellbelove would be better for something like this, but I do not think that this…this can be healed, or changed.”

“Mum, a demon! It was a demon type, right?” I look at Shepard and use my eyes to plead him to fight for himself.

“A demon,” he says, “but I think if I say his name, I summon him or something.”

Mother puts his arms down and exhales. “I don’t think there’s any way, Penelope. You can go to Dr Wellbelove’s clinic, but I don’t know what he’ll be able to do.”

Sadly, Mum’s right, and I despise that. If she can’t fix the curse placed on Shepard, who can…?

Mum’s the most powerful mage I know.

I guess we’ll have to bring this curse thing to the drawing board as well.

**Baz**

With how Simon dives headfirst into whatever he’s doing, it’s easy for me to ogle him without him realizing. Usually, I do it to take in his beauty. Simon is a sight to behold, but this time…this time I can’t stop looking at him because of something I found in the yearbook. Someone. Two people.

Not that I’m jumping to conclusions, but the man and woman in this picture I can’t take my eyes off _might _be Simon’s parents. I don’t know if I’m quite happy with who his father—

“Well, this was a bust—Simon, the scones are for you.” Bunce walks in, her glasses propped up on her head. She sits in an empty chair on my side and pinches the bridge of her nose.

As much as I want to gander at the picture longer, I can’t. I dogear the page and stick it back into the ugly, green thing. I zip it up. More investigating later.

Now that Simon can eat his scones, he’s more content. He butters them up like he usually does and stuffs them right in his mouth. Penelope typically buys the store made scones that they sugar up, and these are homemade.

I guess I have to figure out how to make scones, too. Simon would appreciate the effort, even if it goes to shite.

“So, no uncursed Shepard?” I ask, leaning against my knuckles. Bunce is upset. She’s clenching and unclenching her fists.

“I told you, Pen. I did. I tried to—”

“Please shut up, Shepard. Please. I’m trying to think about what we can do.”

“We can’t control the entire world, Penny.” Simon says this, and both Bunce and I are shocked enough that we exchange looks.

“I know,” she says to Simon. “But I want to help Shepard—”

“And what will you do if we can’t? No offence, Shepard, but there's probably no way to un-curse.”

“Fully aware,” Shepard says.

“I just—”

Simon shoves another scone in his mouth, swallows it, and says, “Let’s go home and regroup. Baz has something to tell us.”

**Simon**

I wanted Baz to hold my hand on the way home, but he didn’t try and grab it, even though I thought I was obvious. Open palmed, faced upward. Isn’t that a signifier?

It’s probably my fault he didn’t. For the most part, I call the shots. I don’t think he wouldn’t initiate kisses, or handholds, or other forms of PDA, but I’ve pushed him so far away that I haven’t allowed him to do so without an awkward reaction on my end.

As much as I wish this weren’t true, I can remind myself now that we’re slowing down anyway. Not halting. Slowing.

Are we still boyfriends? I didn’t specify, but I think so.

Penny and Shepard zip up to the flat and leave Baz and me in the car. If they planned this, I hadn’t any idea of it, but I don’t mind. His eyes are finally off the road and on me. Then, my hand that’s still asking to be held.

“Are you going to pull it away?” he asks, and that breaks my heart a little bit. That I would pull away. That I have. That I made him feel like he is walking on thin ice with me. That we were and maybe are _still _on thin ice as a couple.

We can tell ourselves pretty lies that everything’s been fixed with that conversation last night, but we both need to work on our ends. Me, especially. For Baz. My Baz.

“No,” I tell him and mean it. He takes my hand and laces our fingers together. This feels right, and I squeeze his hand.

When I go to look at him, he’s already lapping me up with those grey eyes. I hope he knows that I love him. I hope he knows that I hate seeing him suffer. I hope he knows that he deserves better than me. Someone who isn’t so unsure of themselves and can give their everything to him without second-guessing it all. Someone who can trust them with every ounce of their being. 

I wonder what he did to fill the void between our first conversation and last night's. Did he clean like last night? Cry? I'm sure he cried and that breaks my heart. I decide to ask. 

“What did you do between our first talk and last night?”

**Baz**

This moment is too tender to drop the Penelope Bunce propaganda about therapy, but I’m not going to lie to him. I _did _actually talk to that therapist in Chicago, and though most of our session was me rambling on about my feelings for the bloke in front of me, I had a session nonetheless. And I might go again. Simon from the past is right. Maybe it’s worth it. But I want present Simon to see that, too. He doesn’t have to talk about his history. He can tell her whatever’s haunting him. I would think she would know enough about his past to make connections with his present, right? What all did they cover? When did he stop going, exactly?

Not that I’m going to intrude, but I wish I knew.

“Therapy.” The gobsmacked stare Simon gives me makes me laugh. “I’m telling the truth.”

“I’m not saying you aren’t, but…you…you went to _therapy_? You avoided it like the plague any time I brought it up.”

“I can be an antagonistic wanker, haven’t you noticed?”

We both laugh, and Simon’s grip on my hand gets tighter. Electric bolts run up my arm at his touch, and I couldn’t feel any better.

I love him; I will never stop loving Simon Snow.

“I want to get better…for you. I want to be better for you.”

The high we’re on slowly sinks to sober grounds, and when he meets my gaze again, he’s sincere. “I want to be better for you, too. I mean it.”

“Simon…I know Penelope’s already told you, but—”

“Wait.” Simon’s eyes narrow. “Did you go just to try to get me to go, too?”

Shit.

Abort. Fucking abort.

Instead of Simon storming up to the flat, being upset about this, a sly grin crosses his face. “What do you think of couple’s therapy?”

Me? We probably need it. No, we _absolutely _need it. Being forced to say what we want to each other. A dream. I will finally know what Simon’s thinking. But Simon….

“What do _you _think of couple’s therapy?” I quirk a brow.

Now, Simon seems to be surprised. “Would you really?”

“Why don’t we find out together?”


	9. Chapter 9

**Simon**

Baz is plotting, and it’s right under my roof.

This is odd, in my personal opinion. When we used to plot, it was at Watford or the Grimm residence. Not in the living room of a Normal flat. The lack of grandeur of plotting in such extravagant settings takes away a bit of the fun, but with Penny’s **_See what I mean_**, it brings just a bit back. Just a bit.

All of us are strewn along the living room furniture, taking up more space than needed. Baz and I sit close on the loveseat. Penelope and Shepard are spread out at the coffee table, and Agatha’s propped up in a chair next to Baz. We felt it necessary that she be with us for Baz’s spiel on what he has to do for his aunt; she discovered Next Blood first-hand before any of us did.

(Agatha keeps telling us that she’s going to leave right after the trials, but Penny and I are betting on when she’s going to admit that she’s going to stay.)

Penny’s spell is glimmering in front of all of us, and all we have written out right now is _Next Blood_.

“We should write down what we do and don't know about Next Blood already, then add onto the list while Baz gives us the rundown.” Penny stands and turns to Agatha. “I know it’s been a pretty traumatic last couple of weeks, but try to remember everything you can.”

Agatha nods, but with the trials coming up, both she and Penelope have been practising this. It comes out of her like it’s second nature. “Most of them are doctors, but if not, they’re wealthy nonetheless. They're mostly men and they treat vampirism like it’s the fountain of youth. They transfuse, not feed, and are looking to find the mage gene in mages. Once they can recreate that, who knows what will happen?"

“Not much, since they don’t have schooling, or knowledge, or a conductor,” Baz interjects, then raises a brow at a scowling Agatha. “What they could create is a threat, but a group of, what, five twenty-year-olds, took down the leaders of an entire Next Blood chapter. Not only that, but Shepard is a Normal and they used guns. I’m not afraid of them.”

“He makes a good point,” Shepard adds. “They hide behind weapons because they don’t know how to actually fight. You guys, on the other hand, do.”

“So, get all of the Next Blood in the world in a single room and drop a match?” Penny sounds unenthused because she knows how impossible that is.

“Am I allowed to divulge in the mission now?” Baz asks, and I can tell he’s going to stand up. He leans forward in his seat, hands on his thighs.

“Is there anything else we know?”

Baz sinks back into the couch.

“Well, there’s more of them,” Shepard says.

“We know,” Penny mutters. “Anything else?”

“Is it possible that the Normal thing at Watford is related since the kid is friends with vampires?” I ask.

“You’re dating a vampire, Snow.” Baz nudges my arm, and I look over. He’s lazily smiling at me and looks bored. “But Fiona doesn’t think so. She wants to focus on the main issue at hand.”

“But what if there isn’t an issue and the Watford debacle is the main issue?” Shepard asks, and whenever one of us, or all of us, sends him a funny look, he holds his hands up. “I’m just playing Devil’s Advocate.”

“Do we know how that’s clearing up, anyway?” I’m beginning to grow bored. To keep myself from tuning everything out, I start to trace shapes into my leg.

“Dad told me that the Coven is taking care of it, and the student is still in custody,” Penny lets me know, and I nod, then my head keeps bobbing. I’m exhausted.

“Bunce, I think I better get on it so we don’t all doze off,” Baz says and stands.

“I want to make sure we have everything we need to know—”

“You can add to it later, but I think Simon’s going to fall asleep if we keep droning on.”

Penny huffs but knows Baz is right. She sits back down to Shepard, and I watch him pout his lip at her. She looks away but suppresses a smile.

Okay, then.

“Will someone make some tea? We’ll have to unpack this, and it might take a while.”

I decide to, just because I feel like I never do. Baz smiles at me in thanks and begins on his speech.

“Fiona decided to look up NowNext online to get a general idea of what Next Blood is disguised as, but there’s no website and no way to find them. I checked myself, and there’s no trace of them. Fiona thinks that they went underground.”

“Dark web?” Shepard asks.

“Exactly,” Baz says. “We have two options, but we need to walk down both paths….”

Not that I intend on ignoring Baz, but I doubt that either of the plans use a non-magickal route. We saw just how effective my wings were in the face of guns. I turn on the kettle and pull out a few snacks from the refrigerator.

“…infiltrate NowNext, or whatever they call it over here. Maybe they changed the name of the programme. Either way, I will have to change my appearance in order to get into the club, or attempt to infiltrate.”

Normals to vampires in hopes to become mages, too. Wild, really. I shake my head at the thought…but….

What if _I _infiltrated? I could be useful. I could be inducted, find my way into the system, and rip it to shreds once I’m in far enough. _I _could do something.

“Baz, I’ll infiltrate NowNext.”

Without saying anything, I can tell Baz is already disapproving of me. He glances me over and shakes his head after a moment of surveying me. “No, Snow. I don’t need you to Turn and _transfuse _blood if I’m already here. I need to pretend I’m not a vampire, and I’ve already done that for fifteen years of my life.”

“You didn’t do a very good job at that, did you?” The lid of the scones container pops off when I pull on it, and I place them on a plate. “If you use a Normal who knows what they’re doing and knows the mechanics of the programme, then they’re less likely to get baited in like those airheads looking for a cause to blindly follow—no offence to your friend, Agatha.”

Agatha shrugs, picking at her nails.

"Pretending to not be a vampire and a mage is impossible for you, Baz. You rely on magic too much. Just let me have this. Let me help you."

“Simon, you’re the poster child for the World of Mages,” Penny adds. “You were prophesied. Next Bloods are smart enough to know who you are from a mile away.”

“So, Baz can change the way he looks and I can’t? That’s not quite fair, is it?”

“We’re trying to keep you safe!” Baz says.

“And I’m trying to feel useful to you!”

Penny deflates, and the anger building up in Baz’s brow defuses; his face goes slack.

“Simon, you’ll always be useful to—”

I stop Penny by holding my hand up.

“The only way I can be useful as a Normal is if I _do _something. Shepard has this vast amount of knowledge that surprises, I think, all of us.” I wave my hand between him and Penny. “You two can team up to be the the masterminds behind this. Shepard, I’m surprised you haven’t cracked open your laptop to try and find a website!

“I’ve always been a doer. I don’t put very little thought into what I do, but I always manage to get out of the mess…that I start, I know, but this would be controlled. If we _all _go in, things get suspicious.”

The room is quiet. No one knew the weight of the situation until now. Being inducted is a now or nothing matter, and I’m willing to play my cards and go in headfirst. It might be stupid, it might be dangerous, but I’ve dealt with stupid and dangerous all of my life. I’m willing to do it. I’m willing to take one for the team. This is where I’m most useful.

“Simon,” Penny says just loud enough for us to hear, “if you do this, you can’t get a Normal job yet. You’d have to pick up and move around with them, dedicate your time to it—”

“And there’s no fucking way that I’ll let them Turn you,” Baz interrupts. Arms folded and standing up as tall as he can, he looks down on me like he’s trying to assert his dominance or something. I know he cares about me and my wellbeing, but this is my choice.

“I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make sure we don’t have to worry about these bastards tainting the World of Mages.”

“But I don’t want them to taint you, Simon.”

Nothing right now could break the eye contact I’m holding with Baz. “What is that supposed to mean?”

So many thoughts run through my head. I’m already tainted, with the wings and the stupid tail. I’m tainted in the fact that I’m Normal. I was tainted with magic when I _was _a mage. I’m a tainted individual, so I don’t understand why being tainted just a bit more would do damage. I’m not asking to be a vampire, and I hope, desperately, that we can figure things out before it would come to that, but let it be if it does. I stopped caring.

After several moments, Baz looks away, almost ashamed. “I don’t want them to hurt you, but it’s your choice. I have to respect that.”

**Baz**

But I’ll never forgive myself if he is Turned. He doesn’t deserve the pain, or scorn, or the stigma. No one deserves this fate, but if that’s what he decides, let it be. There’s more to it, though. We have to figure out how to locate them in the first place, and if they are underground, or if they changed the programme name. It can’t be too hard to find, can it? Visit local juice shops, yoga centres, chakra-aligning classes. Agatha makes it sound easy to find, but we also have to look into the darker side of things. Where they get the blood, how they find their runners, how they can be mobile in such an anti-vampire climate. There’s so much we don’t know that we have to figure out before we get going, and sitting in a flat doesn’t do the job for me. I can’t think in such a stuffy environment without something to highlight our issues. The magic works, but I want something solid.

“We need to relocate.”

“I think we’re doing perfectly fine here,” Bunce rebukes, but I shake my head.

“I _can’t _think clearly. We don’t have to go to anyone’s house, but somewhere with a chalkboard. I can’t think when magic’s gunking my brain.”

“Mum’s out, Dad’s at the clinic, and I think Helen’s running errands,” Agatha stands. “We can figure it out in the study if you’d like. If it’d help.”

It does help. We had to conjure a chalkboard, but it helps nonetheless. That, and we’re not so crowded. Bunce and Simon’s living area is smaller than the turret at Watford, and being able to turn without running into something helps a lot.

Bunce has taken to writing down everything we do and don’t know.

What we do know:

  1. NowNext exists in other parts of the world.
  2. We cannot find the NowNext website or any information on them in general.
  3. They have to have other vampires doing the dirty work for them in order to find blood to transfuse.
  4. They want to crack the mage gene in order to be magickal themselves.
  5. There is a way to find them as a programme.
  6. The heads of the organisation are Turned, but lower levels are not.
  7. This mission, if you would call it that, will take time and patience. (Simon’s idea of diving in headfirst is clumsy; I don’t know what else to expect from a clumsy git.)

There’s a decent-sized list for what we know, but it’s what we don’t know that makes it hard to figure out. There are underground aspects to NowNext, mainly because we don’t know where they get their blood. I highly doubt that they raid blood banks; if they did this, Normals would know. They’re doctors, so, logically, they could be stealing from their supplies at hospitals. But again, that would trace back to them eventually. I’m counting on Next Blood paying less fortunate vampires to do their bidding. But we don’t know how they do that.

What we don’t know:

  1. _Exactly _how they get their blood.
  2. What the programme is called, or if NowNext has gone to the dark web as a cult rather than a programme.
  3. How far Next Blood expands.
  4. How many chapters Next Blood has.
  5. How to take British Next Bloods down quietly, and without warning to the other chapters in other parts of the world.
  6. The extent of this problem.
  7. Where to go to find it as a programme.
  8. What to do once we’re in.

We’re only looking at the tip of the iceberg at the moment. So much of what we do depends on how we get in and when we do. We must start as soon as our trials are over; right now we’re just floating. 

I’ll have to relay all of this to Fiona later, but I believe our meeting is adjourned. Bunce takes a picture of the board and begins to erase it, so I take a seat next to Simon. His wings are out and tucked, so he’s on the ground for comfort.

“As soon as trials are over, I’m going to go to that vampire bar that we went to to look for information.”

Simon looks at me, slightly amused but he looks stoic in the same. “You made an impression on them. I’m sure they’ll remember your face.”

“I’m going to grow my beard. My hair’s longer, too. Hopefully, they won’t see through it, and if they do, I’m a mage. I can disguise myself.”

“How do you think I should disguise myself?” Simon asks me, then pulls on his hair a bit. “I’ll probably have to. Do you think that they were in touch with American Next Bloods?”

“We don’t know, but I wouldn’t be surprised.” I pull my hair out of its bun and tie it back up. “We’ll start with the trials first and find out the verdict. Then I’ll go to the bar. I think we’ll be able to do a lot more with that.”

“I think Shepard’s already trying to find Next Blood information on the forums,” Simon informs me, and when we look over, he’s clacking away on his keyboard.

“Perhaps.”

“The internet, huh?”

I chuckle. “Pain in the arse.”

“Useful, though. Everything’s traced. I think he’s trying to at least find an archive for NowNext’s website.”

“Good luck with that.”

After another thirty minutes or so, we leave Agatha’s. She tells us that she’s going back to America after the trials, but no one believes her. I don’t think she believes herself. She waves the rest of us off and tells us to rest up.

We climb into the car, and Simon sits up in the front with Bunce, so he doesn’t vomit all over the vehicle. Shepard’s migrated his investigation from his laptop to his mobile until we’re too far away from Agatha’s house. Then, he loses the wifi. No one says anything, and I’d guess it’s because we’re absorbing all of the information we took in within the last couple of hours. This Next Blood business is hefty and dangerous, and all we can hope is that things go our way. We have the magic, we have the resources, and we have the brains.

Nothing could go wrong, or everything could go wrong, but all I’m worried about is Simon and his safety.

He stares out of the window, unblinking, and I wish I could read his mind, yet again.

Simon has played the hero for so long; I pray he can do it once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof oof Simon Snow


	10. Chapter 10

**Simon**

“I am worth it,” I say to myself in the mirror for the umpteenth time in the past few minutes. My insides are shrivelling, and the whir in my stomach tells me that I’m going to throw up, but I’m trying to keep it all down. The last thing I want is to vomit on myself right before Baz and I’s date, but it looks it might turn out that way, no matter how much I don’t want it to. I’ve held his hand, kissed him, and let him see me in some of the most vulnerable moments of my life, but the thought of sitting across from him in a restaurant booth is something that my body doesn’t agree with? I did so not that long ago, I don’t know what the issue is, but it’s large enough to make me feel sick.

It can’t be that the trials are tomorrow. It’s not, and I know that. Hell, we all might get medals for what we did. All we have to do is sit down and tell the truth. That doesn’t worry me. I’ve been in the hot seat before, right after the Mage died. Free of all charges. I’m not afraid of it.

But this date…this sodding date.

“I am worth it.” My stomach jerks, and I gag. I manage to keep it down this time, but I don’t know if I’ll be lucky enough to do the same next time I gag.

Loosening my tie and taking it off, I toss it onto the bed and wander out into the living room. Penelope is going over what she’s going to say to the Coven with Shepard. She glances at me briefly, still speaking, but stops when she does a double-take.

“You look _terrible_.”

“Thanks,” I mumble, ruffling my hair.

“No, like, ill.” Penny stands and walks over to me, placing her hand on my forehead. “You should call Baz and tell him that you’re sick. I can try my best to spell you better, but I don’t think you should go out.”

“That’s perfect. Just perfect.” Before I can turn back to my room and try to calm myself down a bit more, there’s a knock on the door.

Even in my best attempts, I can’t make it to the loo. I vomit all over myself.

“Oh, Simon,” Penny croons. “Shepard, please get the door. I need to get Simon to his room.”

With a simple spell, Penny’s able to de-vomit me, but she ushers me to my room anyway.

“I think I’m fine now, Pen. I can go out. I need to spend time with—”

“If you want to spend time with Basil alone, Shepard and I will leave. I don’t think it’s a good idea to go out, Si. As much as you want to.” Penny shoves me onto my bed and pulls my suit jacket off. “I wish you would’ve told me earlier.”

“I didn’t feel ill. I thought it was just nerves.”

“Which is probably is, but you worried yourself sick. Simon, he’s your boyfriend!”

“Things have changed…and we’ve never been on a proper date.”

Sighing, Penny begins to unbutton my shirt. “Real dates don’t have to be sitting across from each other at a fancy restaurant. Watch a movie. Hold hands.”

“But we’ve done that before.”

“Then you’ve been on tons of dates.” Penny walks from me so she can grab me some pyjamas. I unbutton the rest of my shirt and toss it aside.

“Simon?” Baz opens the door, wearing a worried expression. He crosses the room and feels my forehead for himself. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn't feel sick earlier...and I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

Penny hands Baz my pyjamas and he hands them over to me. For privacy, she leaves the room. Baz stays. He’s seen me in nothing but pants before.

“You’re ill, not avoiding me,” Baz tuts, sitting next to me.

“I don’t know…I worried.” I pull on my pyjamas and lie down. I pull my knees to my chest. “I’m sorry. I ruined it.”

“You got sick. You didn’t ruin anything.” I can feel Baz’s hand hover over my back, but he’s unsure of what I’ll do. He places his hand on my back, anyway. A rush of relief rolls through me.

“I feel like I just…I ruin everything, Baz. Dates, plans, _us_. It’s always because of me.”

**Baz**

Simon’s opening, and it’s precisely what we need. But…can I open up, too? I’m tired of saying nothing when he can say everything. Maybe this is our therapy and we don’t have to sit in a stuffy room with a Normal therapist that gets off on listening to couples’ problems.

“You’ve never ruined dates or plans, and you didn’t ruin _us_. I’m still here, aren’t I?”

The urge to make Simon look at me is high, but I’m afraid he won’t talk if he does. “I don’t deserve you. You should find someone else, Baz. You should find someone who can show you their affection. You should find someone who can give you their everything.”

My breath stutters in my throat, but I try to play it off as a cough. “Simon, I don’t want anyone else.”

“You looked pretty comfortable with those vampires.”

I know what he’s doing. As much as he’s going to push, he’s not going to lose me. It fucking hurts watching him suffer, but he needs to sort through his emotions, too. Every feeling, every bout of sadness, and every smile is valid. All I can do is be there for him.

“I’m not,” I tell him earnestly.

“You should give up because you’ll lose me, eventually. I’ll die and leave you all alone. Save the pain now, Baz.”

“I know that you’ll die eventually, but that won’t stop me from feeling the way I do about you.”

Simon suddenly turns to face me, and tears leak down his cheeks like there’s a crack in the ceiling on a rainy day. His tears are unrelenting, and I’m trying to hold mine back.

“We’re just talking in circles, Baz.”

“What do you want?”

“You.” Simon says this like he’s spitting out poison. “But I’ll never be good enough for you! I’m a piece of traumatised, Normal shit! And look at you—you’re this dead handsome vampire prince. You’re made of magic! You're amazing and I can never amount up to you.” Simon pulls away from me. “Find someone who compliments you, not someone who brings you down. I want to be better for you, but I don’t know if I ever will be.”

I take a deep breath to try and keep myself from crying, but I know I can’t contain it.

“Simon, _what _do you want?” I ask again. The floodgates open; I'm a weeping mess.

“You!” he yells this time. He won’t stop crying, and I think Penny’s listening at the door. As much as I don’t want her eavesdropping, I can’t find myself to magick a blockade to keep her from hearing.

“Look at me.” I grab him by the elbows and he jerks them away. “Look at me, please.”

Simon does.

“I know you know, and I know that you love me back, but I love you. I’ve told you this so many times and it’s not because I’m hung up on some honour with keeping promises. It’s because I do, I really do. I love you for your mess and your sadness and your beauty and happiness. I love you for everything you are, and everything you have been and will be. I can never find the words to say it because I would’ve hoped you’d know, but I mean it.” It’s almost an involuntary response that I stand. I never explode. I never divulge like this, in such a rash manner and like I’m vomiting up the words. I stopped caring about showing my emotions, but this word vomit is new to me. I’m a mess, an absolute disaster, but we match.

“Simon, I love you no matter what you do, and all I ever want you to be is happy, but are you happy with me? Be honest, please. Please use your words. Don’t close up on me now.”

“I’m not happy with anyone, Baz.” Simon is closing up again, even though I’m begging him not to. He’s hugging his knees to his chest. “I can’t when I know that I’m not worth anyone’s time.”

When Simon Snow suffers, so do I. His pain is mine. I know I never knew him as an innocent child—he had traumas since he was young, and I know he will never be able to "get over it" with the amount of suffering he’s gone through. But I will spend every last moment I can filling those cracks in his heart. I want to put him back together piece by piece and love him for himself and his scars, no matter how emotionally damaged he is.

How can I show him that he’s worth it? I’ve tried so hard already; what else can I do?

All he will ever think is that he doesn’t deserve it. He deserves everything and more.

Fuck.

I don’t want to break down in front of him. I need to move away; I have to be strong for him.

For him.

Everything has been for him. It will always be for him.

I ask him this one more time. “What do you want?”

Simon’s eyes don't dry, and neither do mine.

“I just want you to find happiness and it won’t be with me.”

“Simon.”

Climbing off the bed, he pads over to me. His hands are soft, and I could hold them forever.

“I don’t like seeing you cry.”

“How do you think I feel?”

He chortles, and I smile because he is. Yet, I can’t stop crying.

“I don’t want to make you suffer.”

“I can’t stand seeing you suffer.”

“You need to find someone better than me, Baz.”

“We match, Simon. In every fucking way.”

“I’m not good for you.”

I rest my forehead against Simon's and stifle a sob. He’s only seen me this low once, and he kissed me then. I’m not asking for kisses, I’m asking for his heart.

“All of this because you got sick on date night?”

“No, all of this because I hate myself and there’s nothing anyone can do about it.”

My eyes squeeze closed and several more tears roll down my cheeks. I hug him closer, and he lets me. He goes limp in my grasp and I cry into his neck. If I could take it all away, Simon, I would. I wish I could.

“I was the Chosen One,” he whispers.

“You saved the World,” I remind him.

“Now I don’t have anything left. I’m useless.”

“You have everything left, Simon. You have your friends, your wings and tail. Even without those, you're everything to me. People love you so much, and don’t forget about our mission. We’re going to save the world again.”

Simon cries until he exhausts himself. He falls asleep in my arms, and I cover him in healing spells. I know it will never take away his pain, or trauma, or anything else, but I do what I know I can that will help him in the slightest bit.

Kissing his forehead, I tell him I loved him then, I love him now, and I will love him always; I know it’s cheesy, but it’s true nonetheless.

I leave the room after flicking the bedroom light off.

Then, I start to cry again. Bunce pushes me to the couch and makes me sit down. I curl up and cry. I don’t care anymore. She and Shepard heard it all, no doubt.

Penelope’s hand rubs my back in soothing circles, but it doesn’t ease the pain. I will hurt as long as Simon does. Nothing I can do will help him, no matter how hard I try. But he told Bunce to never give up and I won’t either, no matter how much it exhausts me.

“Let it all out,” she tells me, and I do. “It’s exhausting.”

“I just want him to be happy.”

“We all do, and someday he’ll find himself again.”

But when?

How long will he have to hurt?

“Spend the night,” Penelope tells me. “You can sleep in my room. I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“No,” I sniff. “I should get home.”

“Stay,” she says again, and I do.


	11. Chapter 11

**Penelope**

Simon walks out of his bedroom like he’s getting over a hangover. From what I heard last night, he cried until he didn’t, and Baz walked out moments later after turning off the light. Simon's probably sporting a headache, and the very little scruff on his upper lip tells me that he isn’t taking care of himself.

He’s in the same trousers he was supposed to wear last night, and he acts like he’s ready to go once I spell his wings away, but he needs to brush his hair and his teeth and take care of that upper lip. I shove him back into his bedroom after vanishing his wings, telling him he needs to clean up, and he mutters an, “All right, all right,” before closing the door.

My bedroom door swings open, and Baz’s eyes are on fire. “I shouldn’t have stayed! I have nothing to wear, and my hair’s dirty, and I can’t shave!”

“Calm down, Basil. You’re in a suit, and I wasn’t going to let you leave when you were crying your eyes out.”

After looking down at his clothes that he must’ve slept in—they’re wrinkled—Baz curtly nods. He calms down a bit, but doesn’t look happy. He eyes me and turns towards the bedroom. “You’re wearing something else. Give me a moment.” The door closes behind him. Then, he opens it. “Lock the door if you go into Simon’s room. He’s bleeding, and I haven’t fed yet.” He talks like he has costume teeth in his mouth. Again, the door closes.

“If it’s going to turn into me relaying information between the two, I don’t know what I’m going to do,” I say more to myself, but Shepard hears me because he replies.

“Breakups are messy,” he says like I haven’t experienced one within the past month.

“I don’t even know if they’re broken up. I just know that they’re…eh! I don’t know another word our sound to describe them!”

I leave Shepard alone in the living room and lock the door behind me when entering Simon’s.

“I shouldn’t shave when I’m this tired,” Simon says to me, walking over. His top lip is bleeding from a nick, and I use the amethyst to spell it better. It goes away. “Thank you, Pen.”

Even though he smiles, I can see the sadness in his eyes. I want to comfort him. I want to tell him I’m there for him, but if I bring it up right now, he’ll dwell on it all day. I also want to bring up therapy again, because he needs it no matter what he thinks.

Instead, I cup his cheek and sigh. “Are you ready?”

He puts his hand over mine. “As I’ll ever be.”

Simon walks out of the bedroom first, but his footing stutters backwards, and he runs into me. Baz must be out there; all I can do his push him forward and deal with the awkward tension.

Except there isn’t any. Baz stands there looking handsome as ever, scruffy but in a debonair way. He has another outfit for me to wear but drops it at the sight of Simon.

I guess Simon’s heart must’ve skipped a beat and he reacted by stumbling back.

Their eyes won’t leave each other, and if I don’t do anything about it, they will stand there all day.

“Baz, you better get going to you can feed before the trial.”

To my surprise, he doesn’t move. I try to brush past Simon. He won’t budge either.

“Good Merlin and Morgana, please get on with your day! We have a trial in an hour!”

Still, they won’t move. What the fuck is wrong with them? I know that they are working through a rough patch, but this is getting us nowhere.

This time, I push Simon out of my way, and Baz snaps out of whatever trance he's in. He shakes his head like he’s trying to get water out of his ear and leaves the flat, closing the door behind him.

I have _no _idea what I’m going to do with them now that it’s like this with them.

“You should go, guys. I'm sure the taxi's already here,” Shepard tells us. He won't be joining us. He’s not exactly hiding from the Coven, but he’s hiding from the Coven. He’s taken to, “holding down the fort” while we’re gone. To help out, he decided to look for more programmes that could possibly be NowNext, and is waiting for a burner computer he bought on Ebay to start dark web sleuthing.

I abhor the fact that there’s not just the surface internet. Anything can happen on the dark web. I assume it’s dark magic of the Normal world. Summon anything for a small price, and it’s in your hands.

“I’ll see you later,” I say to him and he smiles. I hate the minute bubbling in my stomach that feels like excitement.

This is Shepard we’re talking about, the Normal that lacks personal space.

I ignore this feeling and grab Simon by the hand. I think he’s still dazed because it takes a bit of work to pull him to the door, and I have to help him down the stairs. I feel like I’m taking care of a baby or a drunkard, and he better not act this while we’re being tried for everyone’s sake. I understand he might not be in a proper headspace, but closing up like this is bad for all of us.

To my relief, he buckles himself in. He even talks once the cabbie drives down the road and to our destination. He has to turn around to face me in the backseat. 

“I think Baz wanted you to wear something else.”

Everything is about Baz, isn’t it? I chortle at this lovesick best friend of mine. Simon craves love like he used to crave sour cherry scones, but he doesn’t realise how loved he is, does he?

“I’m fine with wearing shoulder-padded pantsuits for a trial. It makes me feel powerful.”

“The plaid is a plus,” he says, running his fingers over one of my padded shoulders.

“Definitely,” I laugh.

The rest of the drive is quiet. Nothing needs to be said. Simon turns away from me and sings along quietly with the pop songs on the stereo he typically tries to ignore by listening to classic rock stations. I think he’s trying to get used to the idea of conformity.

**Baz**

I pace back and forth, my phone pressed to my ear. She should be here by now, but she won’t pick up. Why won’t she pick up?

The phone directs to voicemail again, and I cuss under my breath, calling her for the umpteenth time.

Bunce and Simon are making their ways towards me; Agatha sits on a chair next to the door we’ll have to enter, one at a time. The trials are more like interviews, just with consequences. Or a medal. I bet Simon will get a medal, with the World of Mages on his side.

“Fuck!” Again, the phone goes to voicemail. I’m already on edge from everything that’s been happening, and my aunt can’t pick up her bloody phone. She was supposed to be here!

“Basil, please calm down. You’re making me nervous,” Agatha bemoans, hiding her face in her hands.

“What’s going on?” Bunce asks as soon as they reach me. Simon won’t look at me, and I can’t look at him right now, not without getting a lump in my throat and breaking down like the fool I am.

“Penelope Bunce, just in time.” A cold, snide voice nearly gives me goose pimples, and when I turn towards the sound, I find a large, ominous member of the Coven. He appears ready to tear her to shreds despite Headmistress Bunce's promise of a light sentence, and even I begin to worry. I tend to nonchalantly navigate myself out of situations that many people consider stressful, but now…who knows what we’re awaiting? We committed severe offences, after all. I take a deep breath, and I exhale, breath trembling.

Bunce sends me a worried look over her shoulder, and all I can do is mouth, “Good luck.” We might be shit out of it.

Just as the door closes, another slams open. Fiona essentially runs over, doubling over as soon as she reaches me. She pants, “Where’s Bunce?”

“Already with the Coven—where were you!?”

Fiona shakes her head and stands up, more composed than she was a moment ago. She decides not to answer me and walks right into the room with Bunce and the Coven.

“Why is she here?” Agatha asks me, and I’m glad it’s her and not Simon. I don’t think I’d be able to speak to him.

“She’s formally asking if we can work with her. If we do get charged with something more than we anticipated, it’s community service. And if things go to hell while on our mission, we can’t get in too much trouble because the Coven warranted it.”

“I’m leaving after this, anyway. It won’t matter much for me,” Agatha says, pushing hair behind her ear.

Of course she's leaving. I don’t believe her for a minute.

“Well, that’s good for us, I guess,” Simon says to me. “Is she telling them that I’m infiltrating Next Blood once we find them?”

I look at Simon Snow for the second time today, and like this morning, I’m rendered speechless. I get lost in the beauty of his muddy blue eyes and freckled skin. He did something with his hair, but it looks a bit more ruffled and a lot nicer than the clean-cut style it was originally purposed as. The suit he’s wearing was what he wanted to wear for our date last night.

Will we get another chance at a date, or was last night it?

Simon Snow doesn’t deserve any negativity he gets, and I certainly don’t deserve him. I wish he knew this. I wish I could physically show him how much I love him, because maybe then he’d be able to comprehend it.

There are a lot of things I would wish for, but none of them could come true. I’m a mage, not a genie, and even then they have their own set of rules and love is out of the picture.

Before me stands this beautiful man, a frightened boy, haunted my traumas that will never cease from screaming at him. A broken person stands across from me, who doesn’t want help, but screams for it, whether he wants to deny it or not. I have to force myself to look away because if I look at him for any time longer, I will lose myself again.

“No,” I say so quietly that I’m not sure whether I mouthed it or not.

Simon doesn’t try to talk to me again.


	12. Chapter 12

**Simon**

We didn’t get little medals, but we are free of all charges, thanks to Fiona and her plan to get us to work with her on the Next Blood case. (Baz and I were clear of all charges with little issue; Penny was the most troublesome—they almost placed her under house arrest.) Penny wants to pick up Shepard and celebrate. Even Agatha is going with us, which says something. She used to be nothing but a tag-along by default. Baz, though….

“I should start on the mission. We can never start too soon.” He tells Penny this and refuses to look at me. I know this is his way of trying to heal from the heartache I caused, but it doesn’t hurt nonetheless that he won’t look at me at all. It hurts more knowing that he won’t go with us to celebrate. Why doesn’t he want to get pints and talk?

It hits me that I’ve taken Baz for granted. He’s always been background noise in my life, but not having him there…it reminds me of when he was kidnapped by numpties. I went insane without him, and that was before I realised that my obsession was some odd sense of love.

He walks his separate way, talking to Fiona. I watch him walk out of the front doors, and my heart goes along with him.

Penny takes my arm in hers. “Si, you’ve _got _to stop thinking about him and start thinking about yourself. It’s not selfish to want to take care of yourself, you know?”

As much as I know she’s right, it doesn’t hurt any less. 

I’ve never loved Penny and Agatha so much. Maybe it’s a bit much, but they hang off of each of my arms. We walk together, and it comforts me.

I know that if I hadn’t pushed Baz away so far, he would be holding my hand.

I already miss him.

**Penelope**

As glad as I am that we got off, I knew we would in some sense. And honestly, house arrest? It wouldn’t inhibit me in any way with our Next Blood plan. Shepard and I were planning on tackling the logistics with Fiona. As much as I like being in the middle of the action, we can’t have too many people without suspicion rising.

This celebration is in part of getting off, sure. I’m glad we did. But really, it’s for Simon and to get his mind off of things. It’s what he deserves and seeing him upset is the last thing I want to do. If getting him drunk at a pub or eating ice cream while crying is what takes off the edge, then I’m willing to do it. There are a lot of emotions Simon still needs to get out.

When we first reach Agatha’s car, I get worried. There’s a white sheet tucked under the windscreen wipers, but when I get closer, I recognise the calligraphy.

Simon grabs it because he knows what it is—another note from Baz.

Has he opened the first one yet? He could use it right now. And when did Baz find the time to write that? I didn’t see him do it earlier while waiting.

“What does it say, Simon?”

He doesn’t directly answer. Simon hands it to me and climbs into the front seat of the car. He closes the door, closing us out, too.

“Oh, Simon,” Agatha sighs, reading the envelope over my shoulder.

_For when you hate yourself._

“I think he should read the other one that Baz wrote him the other day, and he didn’t even see the sweets Baz brought for their date last night.”

Baz tries so hard, and it’s no doubt that he loves Simon. Simon needs to realise this, and he will someday.

I climb into the backseat, and Agatha drives towards the flat so we can pick up Shepard. We’re going out one way or another—whether it be with Simon with a pub, or to the supermarket to pick up ice cream and cheap movies to watch.

“Si?” I say quietly.

He’s unresponsive; his head hangs low. I hurt for him.

“Do you want to go out, Si? Or we can stay in and eat ice cream and cry together.”

Simon shakes his head, but I don’t know at what. He hugs his knees to his chest; I can see the annoyance in Agatha’s eyes, but she knows not to say anything.

“Do you want to be alone, Simon?”

This time, he nods.  
There’s nothing else I can do, so I rub his back and sigh. Everyone’s having a hard time, but we have to be there for him. This is when he needs us most. Even though Baz isn’t going to be here physically—for who knows how long—he’s writing these letters. He isn’t a quitter, so I’m sure he’ll keep up with these and return whenever he’s not as hurt. He has to be there for the Next Blood mission, after all. And he’ll never quit on Simon. He cares too much.

I have to help Simon reach his bedroom. With an arm slung around my shoulders, most of his weight shifts onto me. I can handle a Simon Snow, but it isn’t easy getting from a to b. He’s heavy, and I don’t want to flop him onto the bed. I’m glad when I can gently help him fall back onto it.

I don’t think he helps me at all, though. He’s wide awake, just out of it.

“Where do you want me to put your letter?” I ask him, and he turns away from me.

“Just throw it away, it doesn’t matter anymore.”

“I’m not going to do that,” I tell him. He will regret it. He’s going to want to read them.

“I’ve ruined everything; he won’t talk to me anymore. Just throw them away.”

“No.”

“Penny, throw them away!”

“No!”

Yelling at Simon is something I never want to do, but he’s being unreasonable. I slip the note into my pocket. I’ll look for the other one when he inevitably falls asleep because if he sees me trying to look for it now, I don’t know what he’ll do.

“Penny.” Now, his voice is gentle and almost broken. I turn back to him and find him staring at me through bleary eyes. “I ruin everything. We were supposed to be happy. We were supposed to celebrate. You can’t go out again because of me!”

I walk over to him and take his hands. “You’re trying to find a way to cope, Si. It’s okay. I hate bringing it up again…but you need to get in touch with your therapist. You’re spiralling. I don’t…I don’t know what’s going to happen if I don’t do something about this and if I don’t watch you schedule an appointment.”

Tears sting my eyes, and I blink them away, but I think allowing him to see me upset might make something click. Damn it, I hope something clicks.

“She won’t be able to fix me.”

“No one’s trying to fix you, Simon. We’re trying to help you.”

Simon doesn’t say anything; he’s thinking. I can see it on his face, but whatever he’s thinking, it goes away, and he lays down, facing away from me. “Fine. But give me a few days.”

This is a breath of relief and a step ahead. I know Simon doesn’t want to feel the way he does, but he needs the motivational push. Baz and I haven’t been good enough at that.

I leave the room after rubbing his back, and almost like clockwork, Baz calls me.

“You want to check up on him, don’t you?” I ask, making sure to latch his door closed. Agatha and Shepard are talking about something, and she looks mildly displeased with what she’s hearing. I’ll butt into that conversation later.

“How is he?” Baz sounds desperate.

“Terrible. We aren’t going out because he doesn’t feel like it and he’s beating himself up about it. But I got him to agree to go to the therapist.”

Baz sighs in relief.

“I didn’t want to leave him like that…but I think he needs his space, and I don’t know…what we are anymore. I didn’t want to intrude.”

“He doesn’t think you want to talk to him anymore, Baz.”

“Bollocks. I want to tell him everything. We just—”

“Suck at communication? I agree.”

“It all comes out like this…mess. And he goes off. Not like he used to, but he keeps his feelings pent up until they all come out. We were starting to get better, but—”

“Everything has to be gentle. And slow.”

Baz huffs, and I think I’m working him up.

I decide to ask, “How are _you _doing?”

“I’m miserable.” He sounds it.

“Is there any way I can help you?”

“Make sure Simon feels loved. I will start coming around again, but I need some space to breathe first.”

Of course. Not that I expected anything different.

“Anything else?”

“No. Start working on the plan, though. And make sure Simon eats, and brushes his teeth, and gets up and walks around—”

“I’m not his keeper, Baz.” I’ll do these things, nonetheless.

“Fine.” A brief mumble comes from his side of the call, then he tells me, “I’ve got to go. Getting in the bar to look around. I’ll see you soon.”

**Baz**

Going to a pub feeling this lousy probably isn’t the best idea I’ve had. I’m going to want to drink, and when I drink, I’m sloppy. That’s the last thing I need to be right now, especially if I’m trying to lay low.

I check my appearance in the mirror and nod slightly. I magicked on a beard, and it doesn’t look too bad, to my surprise. I don’t see myself much as a bearded bloke, but it’s a disguise I don’t think too many will notice. I tie my hair back for good measure—it’s a bit greasy, and I usually don’t allow myself to let it look this way, but I’ve got to play the role.

Now or never, I guess.

I climb out of my car and lock it; while I’m doing so, I call Fiona and saunter towards the entrance. She answers after a ring.

“Are you there?”

“Yes.”

“You’ve been there before, right?” Fiona still hates that I went to find Nicodemus out, but she hasn’t hexed me for it, so at least that’s that.

“Yes, I know how to get in. I’m disguised, too.”

“Good. Be careful, and don’t resort to magic yet. We’re still trying to scope the scene out.”

What she means is that I can’t go ballistic on them with my fire powers. I swore off cigarettes because Simon didn’t like the idea of a flammable being using them. I understand, and even though he’s not watching me, I’d still feel terrible about using them.

Not that I need to threaten them tonight, I have to lay low.

“Do you have Bunce’s number?” I ask; I’m starting to get close, so I slow my pace even more.

“Yes, will I have to deliver messages for you now that you and Dragon Boy—”

“Don’t, Fiona.”

She must realise that she crossed a line; she apologises, and it’s sincere.

“Good luck,” she tells me, and I thank her. Then, I hang up.

When I first walk in, I’m greeted with the familiar sight of higher-class vampires. The Lambs of Britain. (He’s British, but so were the people on the Mayflower.) They look at me like I did when I showed up here a couple of years ago, except my guise (hopefully) keeps them from knowing who I am. I am not intimidated in the slightest, but rather know where to go this time. I enter the door in the back and walk down the spiral staircase to find the people I need to see.

The last thing I expect to see is one of me—one of the better on their luck vampires—talking to someone who looks hungry for the information he’s getting.

A cold smile curls onto my lips. Precisely what I’m looking for, and I didn’t have to look far.


	13. Chapter 13

**Baz**

Even though I’m fully aware that it is two in the morning, I rap on the door, hard, to wake anyone and everyone in the Snow-Bunce flat. What I found is vital to our investigation, and I feel the need to break it down right away. I might be jumping on too soon, but it won’t hurt us to look at what we have and what we need to do to prepare for an attack. (Metaphorically; we’re not in far enough to attempt to ambush anyone.)

“Baz, why do you need me?” Fiona walks up behind, and when I turn around, she stumbles back. I grab her by the forearm to make sure she doesn’t fall off the landing.

The door opens, and I turn towards Bunce. “Tyrannus Basil—ah!” She, too, jumps back.

“What?!”

“You grow a rather impressive beard,” my aunt says, and I bring a hand to my beard. I forgot about it.

“It doesn’t matter,” I tell myself and everyone else. “You have your burner laptop, right, Fiona?”

“Yes, now let’s go in.”

Fiona shoves me into the flat where everyone else is, awake and confused.

Everyone but….

_Don’t think about it, Baz_.

Wellbelove is here as well, peeking around Bunce’s bedroom door.

“What’s up, Baz? Love the beard.” Shepard beams at me, and by how awake he looks, I can only assume he hasn’t been sleeping. Bunce doesn’t look tired either, or that she’d been startled awake. Wellbelove is a different story, and Simon, I have no clue.

_Damn it, Basilton. Get your mind off of him for one second!_

After taking in the flat, I realise why Bunce and Shepard haven’t been sleeping. They have some cheesy horror movie from the eighties paused on the telly and cartons of ice cream sit on the coffee table. Both Shepard and Bunce are in pyjamas. (Simon’s clothes could swallow Shepard.)

_Merlin and Morgana_.

“Did I interrupt movie night?” I ask as I watch Bunce and Shepard clean up the garbage strewn all over the place.

“We were researching, but only found dead ends,” Shepard informs. “Then, we went to a convenience store and picked some things up. Agatha decided to hit the hay after the first movie.”

“Now that I’m up, I might as well leave,” Agatha mumbles, pulling the hem of her dress down. “I’ve been exploited for my car too many times since I got back.”

“Where are you going, back to America?” I tease. (I think everyone knows Simon and Bunce are betting on when she’s telling us she’s staying.)

In return, Wellbelove rolls her eyes. “Soon.” She leaves the flat, grabbing her keys on the way out.

“She’s not leaving,” Bunce says.

“She can’t,” Fiona replies, which startles me slightly. I forgot she’s here. “Wellbelove is too important to the investigation. Coven’s orders.”

“Blimey,” says Shepard, and when I give him a look, he shrugs. “Don’t you guys say ‘blimey’?”

Bunce shakes her head and sits on the sofa as do I and Shepard.

Now, to talk business.

“What’s the good news? I’m assuming it’s good. Otherwise, I can’t imagine you banging on the door so late—thank you, Baz’s aunt?” Shepard takes the laptop Fiona hands over and turns it on. He doesn’t need a password and automatically searches the computer for its VPN configurations. Once he’s sure it’s on, he turns to me.

“What do you want to know?” I ask.

Shepard says, “Everything that happened.”

**Shepard**

I’ve been trying my best to look for possible ways to hunt down the damn Next Blood and its members, but like everyone else, they’re laying low. From what I’ve been told about British vampires, they have to lay low anyway, so planning an uprising against Speakers is hard to do if there are any stray connections. I get the gist of what Baz’s plan was when he went to the vampire bar, and now I need to know what he did before weighing our options. If he found something out, I think it’s too soon to decide that the information is valid. Infiltration takes time.

“After walking into the lower levels of the bar, I found a Next Blood prat right away, dressed like he got right out of his shift at the hospital. He was talking to some chav of a vampire, discussing the prices for different types of people he could find and take to a facility in Holmes Chapel. Holmes Chapel is a small village in Cheshire." (He's saying this to me because I am incompetent when it comes to Britain.) "It’s out of the way and small, so finding a facility, I would think, wouldn’t take too long. It’s also a good way to isolate people if they’re having a ‘cleanse’. I’m assuming there is a lot more of the Next Blood propaganda in town, so we might need to look around. I heard him give a website to the chav, and he brokered deals with several people. He wasn't exactly discreet about it.”

“He’s leading you down a fake trail. I think he’s trying to bait you.” Getting information is never that easy, and I think looking up the website, whether it be on the dark web or not, might screw up the computer. I shut it. There’s no way I’m going to feed into something so early. Not after the shitshow I had with this gang. No way.

Usually, I’m curious. This time, we need to think this out, or we’re all going to die for real this time.

“You followed us into a ‘Quiet Zone’ because you were curious and you don’t think we should look around Holmes Chapel?” Baz isn’t happy about what I think, but I doubted he would be. Just my two cents.

“I don’t think the Holmes Chapel part’s a terrible idea, especially with Simon. I don’t know how you plan to disguise him, but I can barely recognize Baz with a beard. I think you should try that out on him.”

I haven’t known these guys long, but I can tell Baz loves Simon. I mention his name and Baz gets this look in his eyes; then he gets all sad. If things can be fixed between them, I hope they do.

“Even in disguise, I think randomly popping up after poking around might alarm people in town. Their population is in the thousands. When Baz says it’s small, it’s small,” Penny says.

“I think I’m going to go,” Baz’s aunt says, and she scares me half to death because I forgot she was here. She hasn’t said much, but it’s probably because she agrees with me. “Can I have my laptop?”

I hand it to her. She spares me a nod in thanks.

“I’ll see you all later,” she says, walking towards the door. “By the way, I’ll need my bag back, Baz. I have yours in my car, but I’m holding it as collateral.” She closes the door behind her in a little less than a slam.

“What bag?” Penny asks.

“That reminds me,” Baz lowers his voice, “I think I found Simon’s parents.”

This information is beyond me, so I tune them out and pull out my phone.

Now, I’m curious about what website the vamp fed Baz.

**Simon**

I can hear everyone beyond the door, but I can’t get myself to face any of them. They’re talking about me and my part in this plan. Though I’m excited to start investigating, I need these few days. I’m glad we’re not starting right away. A few more days to myself and I think I’ll be okay to face Baz again. There are so many things I want to say to him. _I’m sorry that I broke down. I know you’re trying your best. I love you; I love you so fucking much. I don’t understand how you can love me, but I will eventually if you’ll still have me once I figure myself out. _It’s fucking hard, but I’ll have to get through it. (I know I can, no matter how depressed I am.) (All I have to do is keep my mind on the end goal.) (Happiness, and Baz.)

After isolating myself all day, I’m beginning to feel myself again. It sounds pathetic, even to me, but the quiet, the darkness, and disconnecting allowed me to get in touch with myself. If I go back out there right now, I think I might regress. I will have to face them tomorrow, but right now, I need to charge.

Earlier, being about ten minutes ago, I got back in touch with my therapist. I called her, and she answered immediately, saying she was waiting for me.

Although I never planned on making another appointment, I couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty when she told me this. She made me promise to make appointments, and she scheduled the next couple of months out. Twice a week, Mondays and Fridays at two in the afternoon. I feel like I’m jumping in headfirst without a parachute, but this is what I need.

I’m tired of feeling like the victim. I want to be a survivor.

Baby steps, she told me. That’s why I have so many appointments a week. She’s going to take it slower from now on, so I won’t get overwhelmed. She made me set a goal for our appointments, and I told her that I wanted to find happiness and peace within myself and my reality. Even though I may not be magickal anymore, I have purpose. I’m here for a reason. That’s what I need to keep telling myself, and someday, I’ll believe it.

“Goodnight,” Penny says, and a door—I’m assuming it’s Penny's bedroom door—closes. There isn’t much they could do tonight, and I know Baz isn’t happy about it. He likes acting right away, but he usually doesn’t start until he has a hint of a plan. Having to sit out a couple of days is something he doesn’t want to do.

At least he can haunt the bar. I wonder if changing up his disguise each night might make him suspicious, or would a new face ensure the best information. I’ve never been good with the logistics of things; I like to jump in without second thought.

“See you later, Baz. Try not to get too antsy about it.”

“I’ll focus on the other thing. I think I _may­ _be onto something, but I don’t know how to figure out I’m right.”

What other thing? I press my ear to the door to see if I can hear them talk about anything else, but all I hear are footsteps.

Fuck.

I scramble towards my bed; I need to be quiet, but that doesn’t happen when my wings expand and hit my bedframe. I groan in pain.

The footfalls stop.

“Simon’s been in there all day. He hasn’t come out. He’s probably asleep.”

Shepard and Baz are right in front of my door, and knowing Baz, I'm sure hear that my heart is beating out of my chest. He knows I’m awake; he used to tell me to stop feigning sleep when we first started dating. Your heart rate slows when you sleep.

“Okay,” he says instead of rebuking Shepard’s statement and places his hand on the door. I can hear it slide down the wood until his hand parts from the door.

Then, a white note slips under the door.

“Sleep well, Simon.” He walks away, and I listen to his footsteps until they fade.

My wings retract at my will, and I stand, padding over to the note. I pick it up, and since my eyes have adapted to the light, I can read the calligraphy. Gold, this time.

_For when you doubt my love for you_.

Someday, I will read the notes. I’m glad Penny refused to throw the last one away. But for right now, I can't. It’s too hard.

The note is placed in the same drawer as I put the first one, and the pictures of Baz and I, and anything else I have that reminds me of him. Just for right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what are you guys thinking? I love feedback!!! let me know!


	14. Author's Note (Will Delete Later!)

Hey, guys!!! Thank you so much for reading this fanfiction! I've gotten a lot of positive reviews and it makes me really happy! I'm a writer on my own time, so attempting to pick apart Rainbow Rowell's brain and writing is a little hard. I typically write in third person limited narrative, and though angst is my passion, it's a bit different when you're writing an internal monologue in a different point of view. 

These differences prove a bit hard, but so does the pace I'm uploading it at. A chapter, or two, or three a day is really fast! The fact that I can do that is amazing! But it doesn't allow for betas to read and give the thumbs up on characterization, plot, etc. I think I'm a bit sloppy in that regard, and because of that, I will be taking a short break to re-read, annotate, and analyze both Carry On and Wayward Son _and_ redevelop certain aspects of the story. (For the character's sake: Simon, Baz, Penny, Agatha, Shepard, etc deserve this story to be told in the best way possible.)

No plot points are going to change! All I'm doing is refining these characters so it's as canon as possible and so they jump off the page rather than lie flat.

Thank you so much again! We'll get this show on the road soon! I promise!

-M

*Update: chp 1 & 2 have been updated!*


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